Choice
by Lelouch of the Rebellion
Summary: No matter what choice he made, it would still hurt.
1. Chapter 1

The digital clock on his nightstand stared at Jaune Arc. He stared back, challenging it, demanding the blue-lit numbers not to change. It was ten till seven in the morning when he started this contest, and it was 7:00 now. His eyes trailed to the beige ceiling that looked down at him, goading him to try his luck against it. Jaune knew better now, and looked away, down to his right, where white hair sprawled across his chest and hot breath brushed over his bare skin.

Jaune idly noted that the warm body curled up beside him was closer than usual. She would normally have her back to him when he awoke. Instead, her head laid against his chest, where she (if she were awake) could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Beneath the covers, he could feel his naked skin flush against hers, one smooth leg over his, an arm resting across him. He allowed it, knowing what today was, and what they would both have to do.

He did not stare lovingly at the woman who shared his bed but smiled nonetheless as she stirred beside him and groaned, digging her face into him for a few passing moments before her eyes were on him. Those same eyes that lazily opened drifted shut, laying her head back down onto his shoulder, her breasts pushed against his arm. She pressed her lips to where his heart was.

"You're seeing your sister today, right?" he whispered.

Her body stilled, before she stared up at him, the lingering feeling of her kiss on his chest still there.

"Yes," she whispered back. The beautiful woman leaned into him to press her nose to his. "Are you sure you can't come with me?" She asked, breathing the words directly into his mouth. Her light-blue eyes became lidded once more and watched his with a heavy gaze. She pressed her lips to his.

Her warmth was a deadly temptation, one that he allowed himself to partake in time and time again. He drew her closer, his eyes staring into hers that drifted shut. His remained open.

When she pulled away, she leaned back in to lay a kiss on his lower lip this time short but filled with as much need as all the other times. She went on to kiss and nip at his neck.

"I can't," Her affections stopped. She looked to him, their noses touching, her breath mingling with his. If Jaune wanted to, he could have captured those glistening lips of hers. "It's not that I don't want to go, because I _do_." He felt her body relax when he said that. "I got a call last night before you got here about a mission, so I-"

She silenced his words with her lips and pulled away before he could act more on the kiss.

"Okay," She pressed her face to his chest, cheek to where she kissed him upon awakening. She said it was 'okay' and considering how important their jobs were it shouldn't have mattered whether she approved or not. But seeing that sad smile of hers.

It broke his heart.

/-/

"I'll always be here for you, Jaune."

The video rewound as it always did, the girl in his scroll smiled the whole time. He paused it and saw that she was still smiling. With a dull click, the stilled frame of the redhead turned black. He'd seen this recording of Pyrrha hundreds of times, and he could easily recount its contents.

But it never got easier. No matter how many times he would watch it, he was like a man who went days without food and water. His stomach would tighten, his throat would dry. But that was trivial compared to the pain in his chest.

Jaune turned away and toward the door, and reached the wooden desk pushed against the wall where picture frames stood. They were custom made with oak by a designer whose price equated to about a month's worth of his rent. They were the most valuable belongings in his apartment — not the frames, but the photos of heroes, of friends.

With a soft sigh and a pained smile, Jaune brushed his fingers against one of their faces, only doing so because of his black gloves. He would not dare smudge the glass. His eyes met the still image of seven familiar faces, their gazes filled with hope for tomorrow. He was among the group, still wearing the armor he had commissioned to get forged when he was just a teenager. Jaune no longer held any use for it as he hadn't needed its protection for years. All it served to do was slow him down in a fight. Now he wore a black button-down jacket that reached just below his waist, leaving it open to reveal a white dress shirt like what Qrow would wear, but he opted to tuck the shirt in. His trousers that matched his shirt were straight-legged, leading down to black, dress shoes.

To hold his pants up was a dark belt with a silver buckle of simple design; it was not an expensive brand to show off wealth or elegance for such things were trivial. It was paired with a thicker, brown leather belt that ran diagonally across his waist, down to a sword sheathed in a white scabbard trimmed with black lining. It was not Crocea Mors for she was lost to him years ago.

Albus Mors was the sword's name, and like her predecessor, she was simple but would never fail him. She was a beautiful weapon too, though that should have been obvious considering who made it for him. The crossguard was a breathtaking silver that had scrolling on it. The hilt looked ornate too, with carefully maintained black leather wrapped about it.

 _It still surprises me that Ruby stopped herself from adding a gun to the design._ Jaune did not doubt the urge she must have felt to do that, but Ruby probably knew that there would never be enough time to teach him how to use one.

Times have changed though. He eventually learned, but he wasn't a marksman by any stretch of the imagination.

It wasn't just his attire or weapon that had changed, but his age too, he was older, his body stronger, it had to if he was to survive the life of a huntsman. Smooth hands that had never known a day of hard work were now full of callouses, limbs that were once gangly became well toned and defined muscles earned by years of constant training and fighting.

The change did not stop there, though. Like his body, so too did his mind age and mature. So when Jaune looked at the old picture, it was a marvel to him at how young he used to be. How hopeful the young man in the frame seemed and how _naive_ he once was. It was the weakness of youth, he supposed. Jaune wasn't decrepit by any means; he was twenty-three for goodness sake! By all accounts, he should be in his prime full of life and energy.

But he was tired. Always so very tired.

He left a single key next to the photos, a routine whenever the woman in his bed came to visit from Atlas. It took Jaune five paces to reach the front door of his apartment. He opened it and felt the frigid winter air of Vale brush against his face, instinctively taking hold of his red scarf, lifting it to cover his nose. It was a tattered little thing, with the twin ends dangling down his back. It didn't match the clean cut of his clothes, but he found it impossible to part with the cloth. Jaune lowered his hand to his breast pocket, where a handkerchief of the same material took shelter.

"I'm going out," he called.

She did not answer, a fact that did not upset or surprise him.

Fresh snow crunched under the weight of his shoes as Jaune made his way through Vale. The soft ice was gentle in its fall, a stark contrast to the fall of Beacon six years ago. He shook his head, cutting off those thoughts before they could fester and grow in his heart like they always did.

He was walking down the sidewalk, it being midday there were plenty of pedestrians. Many looked his way, their focus immediately on the sword strapped to his waist. From what Pyrrha told him long ago, attention was a hassle, and he was inclined to agree with her. Thankfully, no one tried to approach him and went back to talking and laughing with friends and loved ones.

Jaune didn't let it distract him for long. He ignored his solitude and carried on. _Besides,_ His hand came up to the handkerchief, and then up to his scarf. _I'm not alone._

His feet carried him in the direction of the Bullheads docks. Dozens of the aircraft were grounded, but ready to take off the instant they were needed. He gave one of the pilots his ID before paying the asked fee. It was a fair one, but given his occupation and where his destination was, it made sense.

"So were you a student or somthin'?" The pilot asked, most likely to pass the time.

"Yeah," Jaune let his head fall back against the wall. His eyes drifted shut. "Yeah, I was."

He was returning home.

/-/

As the Bullhead touched down and he stepped out of its confines, the spires of Beacon welcomed him. A few students looked at him, the next set of pawns under _his_ control, donning the same uniforms he and his friends once proudly wore.

"You're late..." He may be a grown man now, but Headmistress Goodwitch was still perhaps the scariest huntress on Remnant even with the gray that started to appear in her hair. There was no other woman he knew that commanded respect the way she did.

"Sorry Miss Goodwitch, my flight got delayed." He lied but winced, realizing what he called her.

"Twenty-three, and you still act like a scared teenager in my presence."

"Sorry, Glynda." he corrected, scratching the back of his blond locks as he smiled at the headmistress. It was a poor attempt at an apology, but she seemed to accept it with a soft smile.

"It's good to see you, Jaune." Her arms found their way around him, and he found it easy to return the gesture. She was warm to the touch, a welcomed contrast to Vale's cold air. Glynda, for he would force himself to call her that, smelled of fine vanilla. Too soon did their embrace end, if he had it his way, he would have continued to hold her; she was one of the few from the cherished past. "I see your hair hasn't met the touch of a barber."

Jaune caressed the small tail he had let grow. It was not as long as what Ren wore, but he had grown it out just long enough to tie it in a ponytail. "What can I say, I like the look."

Glynda smiled, nodding. "Come along; he's been expecting you."

Jaune frowned, straightening himself and standing tall.

She led him through the halls of Beacon. While he was sure that the headmistress did her best to maintain the original design during the school's reconstruction, it was inevitable that things would change — little details such as the rugs being a darker shade of red, different colored walls and new artificial lights. But despite these changes, it wasn't difficult to imagine the roaming teenagers replaced by him and his friends causing trouble, and making messes for Glynda to clean up. Simpler times that he wished to have back.

So much has changed.

"It still amazes me that you got the entire school back up so quickly." Jaune blurted out, a desperate attempt to divert his focus elsewhere. He figured it was good enough as he was genuinely amazed by the effort put into building Beacon back up. The academy was ready by the fourth year of its reconstruction a feat that was only possible thanks to Glynda working 'round the clock to restore Beacon. Without her, repairing the academy could have taken close to a decade to accomplish.

"It wasn't easy, to say the least. While repairing the damages in a cafeteria made by a group of teenagers is paltry," of course she would bring that up again.

"In my defense, I was hardly part of the fighting."

"Hm..." as always she didn't seem to care for his answer and opted to glare at him. "Repairing the entirety of Beacon, on the other hand, was a much more arduous task. One that I do not regret doing." The last part came out as a soft whisper accompanied by a delicate smile.

Jaune once again found himself grinning. And it was without its usual baggage. Smiles these days were often ones of melancholy for when he thought of friends. To see his restored old home never failed to brighten his mood. Sure it also brought back painful trauma, but he found that it was worth it if he could also have these beautiful memories. Like sitting with friends at the cafeteria, or fighting there when it became their battlefield. The school dance, where he got to bust out moves with his team in a silly white dress. Before that was Ruby giving him advice on leadership, and before that was when he first met her. _And what a first impression you made, Crater Face._ Jaune loved those times. He still does.

He was marking papers behind a desk when Jaune walked in the room, with Glynda behind him as she shut the door. He heard the click of the lock going in place. "You're late." He echoed the words Glynda said just minutes ago. Jaune rolled his eyes as he slid a chair back, the legs scraping against the hardwood floor.

"Like I told Glynda, my flight was delayed." While he felt sorry for lying to Beacon's headmistress, he found it more comfortable when speaking to the man in front of him.

"Oh?" He didn't buy it. "If that were the case then why didn't you fly here?"

"I did."

"You know that's not what I meant."

Jaune averted his gaze, finding the wall to be a great victim of his glare. He closed his eyes, breathed in, holding it for three seconds before releasing. He looked forward, meeting eyes that belonged to Oscar Pine, or at least that was who they should have belonged to; it didn't take long for Oscar to merge with the wizard. It wasn't obvious at first. It started with only a few occasions when Ozpin would be in control longer than usual. Or when the group would wake up, it was not Oscar who would greet them. But after Atlas, the boy who everyone quickly called friend had almost next to no time as the mind in control. Eventually, only Ozpin remained, thus another friend lost in the wizard's eternal war against Salem.

"Glynda, could you please give us some privacy?"

"Of course," she nodded, then looked at Jaune. "It was good to see you again." She left, locking the door again on her way out. Jaune heard the click of her heels departing. He no longer had any friends around.

"It is good to see you, Jaune," Oscar — _Ozpin_ said with a soft smile, his dark locks fell into a wild mop that mirrored his old host's. He put one of the vast amounts of paperwork down, offering his full attention for the vastly younger individual before him. While Ozpin may have been centuries old, he inhabited a body that was only twenty years of age with the tall stature and sturdy build of a deadly huntsman. He wore a closed charcoal-gray blazer, two pale gold buttons positioned on his left breast, while two others were sewn parrel on the right. The long sleeves were buttoned up to reveal the dark skin of his forearms leading to his black-gloved hands; both had two green belts that formed a slanted cross. Underneath was a dress shirt that was a dark jade, like moss from a swamp. The top two buttons were undone revealing a black turtleneck to keep warm during this winter season. Reminiscent of the pin his old body once had, was a silver cross with a purple gem in the center around his clothed neck.

"It has been far too long," Ozpin continued, taking a quick sip from his white porcelain mug. And contrary to popular belief, it was not steaming coffee that he enjoyed, but hot cocoa. Who would've thought?

Jaune hummed but said nothing as he looked around the small room. Though he had never seen it, Ruby told him in passing about Ozpin's old office in Beacon's tower and how the dozens of gears turned in harmonized sequence. This room did not belong to Headmaster Ozpin but Professor Pine the new combat teacher at Beacon, and the man who was chosen by Glynda to be her successor. At least that's the story they were going with; the old man couldn't take over the reins of the school immediately. People would no doubt question why an upstart huntsman younger than students in their fourth year at a combat school would be given the position of headmaster over the veterancy that Glynda Goodwitch held. Furthermore, Ozpin had never revealed a successor before his untimely _death_. So it was up to his right-hand woman to cultivate the next academy head.

Until a time that felt appropriate for him to reclaim the seat of headmaster presented itself, the old wizard would have to wait for the school and its students to _officially_ be his.

As Jaune looked through more of his former teacher's room, noticing how it lacked any personal decoration, a single picture protected in a black frame caught his eye. The image was of four smiling women, but the one who captured his attention the most was the one with dark hair that was red at the tips, who had the most stunning eyes he had ever seen. They were practically silver.

Why did Ozpin have a picture of _them_?!

"So how is Miss Rose?" Ozpin asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. "Have there been any changes?"

"Why did you call me?" Jaune scowled at him, for he would not stay here longer than needed. Whatever it was that the old wizard wanted, he needed to spit it out now. Jaune found that patience was a luxury that was rather sparse, and he rather not waste it on the man in front of him.

"I apologize if I upset you," Ozpin said, his voice calm. "It seems you still think rather poorly of me. Very well," his smile turned somber, "I'll keep this brief, then. I need you in Mistral to find any potential leads in our search for Salem's agents. More specifically, I need you in Haven. While I have eyes and ears across the other kingdoms, I have yet to find someone to take Leo's place as my agent."

"What about the new headmistress, Laura? She's had the position for a year now."

"Laurie Theodora," he corrected. The physically young but soul ancient wizard enjoyed a sip from his hot chocolate. There was a hum of approval before he set the mug down. "Though I've considered it, and have spoken with the woman on a few occasions, I am still uncertain whether to add her to the fold. She is bright and seems to have the best interests of her students at heart, but that is I looking from the outside in."

"A whole year, and you can't make a decision."

"If trusting someone with the world's darkest secret was that easy I would have told the entire world to fight Salem years ago." The former headmaster said with a little chuckle. "It will take much more than one measly year for me to decide on the matter. Besides, I once thought that Leo was a trusted ally, and we saw how that ended. It is best for there to not be any uncertainties when I make my decision."

"But this is not the reason why you are here," he continued. "This is about your assignment to Mistral." Not whether Jaune would go or not, for that was a choice he wasn't given. It should have made him angrier than what he was feeling now, but it didn't. Because even if he hated Ozpin, they had a common enemy, and unlike what Raven Branwen did before, he was not going to run away and let others fight in the war against Salem. Not when he still drew breath and had the use of his body.

"You said you wanted me in Haven. How do you propose I accomplish that?"

"That has already been resolved," of course it has. "With your credentials, it was easy to procure you a position as a teacher." Ozpin linked his hands on the table. "In fact, Laurie was so impressed by your resume that she sought you out to be her assistant. Like Glynda is for me."

" _Was_ , Oz. She was your assistant."

He gave Jaune an unimpressed look.

He coughed into his fist, hiding the glee he felt from irritating a wizard who could have very well told fairy tales to his great-grandparents. "When do I leave, and how long do you want me there?"

"You will leave today, and as for the duration of your stay. I'll need you there long enough to determine if any of Salem's agents are within Mistral's criminal underworld, or anywhere for that matter. It will also be a good opportunity to have another opinion on Laurie, seeing as how you'll be near her for quite some time." He frowned, looking like a chess player who couldn't find many good moves to make. "James has not been able to find anything in Atlas, and my sources in Vacuo say that things are normal there. At least, normal in the sense that it is still chaotic as Vacuo always is." He chuckled, "Only Mistral remains, and I can think of no other person in Vale that I trust with this mission than you. "

"I'm the _only_ person you can send. Glynda is the headmistress of Beacon; you're you and Qrow..."

Ozpin's smile fell, his gaze set on the table with cluttered paperwork as he let out a strained sigh, sounding more tired than a man his age should ever seem. Well, more tired than a man _Oscar's_ age should be feeling. "The fact remains, you are the only one I can send." He picked up his mug and downed the cocoa that was inside, setting it down a moment later. "It does help that you are a rather talented young man. I'd dare say you could give Qrow a run for his money when he was your age."

"Don't hold your breath, Oz. I doubt I'm that good." Jaune rose from the desk, his chair scraping back. "Can I expect this to be a solo mission, or am I to be paired with my beloved snow angel again?" Despite the cheesy nickname he still made use of, it wasn't accompanied by the goofy smile his friends said he had whenever he used it.

"You will be on your own. Miss Schnee shall stay in Atlas where she will be well protected."

"She doesn't need it," he replied with a snort. "She can take care of herself."

"Of that, I do not doubt."

"And yet you feel the need to have me babysit her when she could kick my ass nine times out of ten." Though if his parnter ever took a spar with him seriously, the chance of making her break a sweat was nonexistent. When Ozpin didn't reply, Jaune turned to leave. "Well, I'll get going now."

"While we're on the topic of Miss Schnee," Ozpin spoke up with a far more casual tone, no doubt amused that Jaune stopped dead in his tracks. "She did arrive last night and is most likely visiting her sister now at this very moment. But you knew that already. Didn't you?" Ozpin had that knowing smile of his, the one that he used whenever he caught his students in one of their hijinks. He poured himself another cup of the hot chocolate.

"Perhaps you should pay her a visit." Ozpin continued but said nothing more to instead focus on his heart-attack in a cup.

Why did Ozpin feel the need to know everything that didn't involve him?

"I've no idea what you're talking about." He denied, his voice betraying nothing. "And I think I'll pass. Wouldn't want to annoy Ice Queen today of all days."

He went to leave, his hand enveloped the bronze knob, ready to open the door with a twist and pull, "I hope I do not have to emphasize how important it is we find her followers." Ozpin stopped him, his voice taking on a much sharper edge. "While we may have the other relics, Salem still has the Relic of Choice. It is imperative that we reclaim it if we are to end this war. To ensure that the sacrifices our friends made are not in vain."

"They were _not_ your friends!" Jaune spun, glaring at the man who used his so-called friends to fight a war! "Don't you dare pretend that you were our friend. You were just a puppeteer controlling his dolls."

Ozpin sighed, "Whatever you may think of me, trust that I have the best interests of Remnant and its people in mind. Sacrifices have to be made to save the many. I understand more than anyone that it is never a comfort to the few."

His fists tighten. "What can the Relic of Choice do for Salem when she's one foot in the grave? Answer me that."

"That isn't information for you," he warned.

"Bullshit!" Jaune yelled. "I've continued to work for you despite everything you've put me through. I _deserve_ to know what has you so worried! Of all the relics, Choice is the only one you refuse to go into detail about. It's time you tell me what it does." After all the pain and loss, there was no way in hell that he wasn't getting answers! Hadn't he earned that right?!

"All I can say is that the Relic of Choice can potentially undo all that we have accomplished."

Ozpin didn't flinch when the wood cracked from Jaune's fists hitting the desk. "Then why hasn't anything happened?! She's had three years to do _something_ , yet nothing has happened! For all I know, Salem could be dead after what Ruby did to her!" Which meant there was only one name left on his list of enemies that he needed to kill.

"If she were dead, then my curse would have been lifted, and it would be Oscar speaking to you now, sitting in this chair doing paperwork with a cup of hot chocolate to ease his stress. While my footsteps would be long vanished, forgotten by all so that I can finally rest after a war that has lasted lifetimes."

"And how," he leaned closer to Ozpin so that their noses were only an inch apart. "Do you _fucking_ know that?"

For the first time in his life, it was Jaune that left the immortal wizard silent with his words. Ozpin suddenly found his paperwork much more interesting. His mouth opened and closed trying to find the words that he could use to counter back with, but he finally settled to keep his jaw shut. Their eyes met again, and when Ozpin remained mute, Jaune realized that their conversation was over. He pulled away.

"You've already ruined so many lives because of the mistakes that you made! You sacrificed generation after generation of people like Team STRQ, like my team, like team RWBY!" He wouldn't cry. He would never show weakness in front of Ozpin. "Like Ruby..." The same word came out in a whisper, but it held new meaning — one that almost broke him.

"When are you finally going to stop using people?" He continued. "When will it all end?"

Jaune wished for an answer. But one never came.

/-/

Jaune went to visit the prettiest, fastest, and most amazing girl he had ever gotten the privilege to meet.

"I'm here to see Ruby Rose."

The woman checked her computer for a moment, before smiling at him prettily. "Of course. Her room is-"

"430 B, I know." His eyes widen. "Unless it's been changed!"

"No! Miss Rose hasn't been moved. She should be there."

A sigh of relief exploded out. "Thank you. I'll go see her now." Jaune smiled as he moved toward the elevator.

It did not take him long to find her. Jaune knew this place like the recording of Pyrrha; the ins and outs were common knowledge to him. He maneuvered through the white-coated men and women, some waved and said their hellos recognizing him from one of his many other visits. He returned their kind gestures, but never stopped to talk.

He nudged the door forward, walking in a white room its walls and tiled floor seemed to glow. It could not have been from rays of the sun piercing through the window, for the clouds blanketed the ball of hot gas. Perhaps it was because any room seemed to sparkle when Ruby was around. It certainly wasn't because of the slumped form of Qrow Branwen, the last of his team.

Jaune never met the leader of team STRQ, but he wished he had. Summer Rose was the first to part from Remnant many years ago, a mother that Ruby said made the best cookies on Remnant, and was the best huntress around.

Next was the supreme sun of the team, whose brilliant golden aura died with him after he fought Hazel Rainart to a battle that Jaune was not there to witness. If he were, then it would have been a different blond who died that day, for Jaune swore that he wouldn't sit on the sidelines and let anyone else lose their lives. It was a promise that he failed to keep time and time again.

Then finally, came Raven's end, dying in a way that no one could ever foresee, in the arms of her crying daughter, after using her body to take an arrow made of glass aimed at Yang's heart.

Qrow was all alone, his only family now sleeping in a hospital bed.

The retired huntsman sat beside his niece, red eyes staring blankly at the resting woman's face. The years were not kind to Qrow something that Jaune sadly found relatable. The scythe wielder's spiky hair retained only a few strands of its dark locks, the rest now a dusty gray. The slight stubble around his jawline was now a short, unkempt beard that matched the hair atop his head

They did not exchange any words of greeting. It was understandable, considering that Jaune was the reason for his former mentor's retirement from the field. He pulled the only chair in the room back. Unlike his time in Ozpin's office, he did not slide the chair along the tiles, but lifted it, before placing it close to the sleeping form of Ruby Rose.

Jaune took a seat, and like the man that he now sat across from his eyes took in every detail of the woman that peacefully slept — ignorant of the world around her. He removed his gloves, setting them down on the nightstand, before taking hold of Ruby's pale hand with both of his. She was cold, but Jaune rubbed his thumb along her skin anyway, feeling her delicate little bones. He made sure to be gentle, as he always did. Ruby didn't stir from his touch; she never did. She never would.

"It's funny..." Qrow let out a light, but raspy chuckle.

"Only you could find humor in this," Jaune glowered at him but soothed his features a second later. He knew that the old man didn't mean anything by it. After all, Ruby's pale slumber had most likely affected Qrow the most.

"She was always full of energy." Qrow ignored him. "Nothing could ever settle her down. Every day was a new opportunity for her to either go out and train, or to tinker on Crescent Rose when she already did it a mere day ago. She always had that smile of hers too when she did anything. The kind that reassured you that everything would work out. That she was going to fix the world with her boundless energy and be unafraid the whole time."

"She's a lot like Summer," he continued with a pained smile. "Willing to go out and fight all of Remnant's darkness without worrying about whether she would die or not, or how that would affect those who cared about her." Qrow took hold of Ruby's other hand, giving it a soft squeeze. The machine that was always by her side continued to beep a steady rhythm, a comforting reminder that she was still alive.

"Ozpin gave me an assignment," Jaune said, but his eyes never strayed from Ruby. He was too afraid that she would be gone like everyone else if he looked away. "I'm going to Mistral today."

Qrow said nothing. He just sat there, holding his niece's hand as if she would slip away at any moment. Jaune did the same, before bringing Ruby's slender hand to his cheek. Her skin was soft and warm against his, thanks to the heat he shared with her. He leaned into her touch, before kissing her palm.

"I'll leave her in your care," Jaune said, voice barely above a whisper. They were parting words, but he didn't move for another minute. Leaving her here never got easier. What if that heart monitor's steady, rhythmic beats became one solid tone while he was away? Would the world be so cruel as to rob him the chance to say goodbye? He didn't know, and it was a question that he hoped would never need to be answered.

Finally, he stood and walked to the window where he could see the dark gray sky, the sun covered by clouds. It continued to snow, their descent still slow and gentle. He unlocked the window hatch, and let the cold wind inside, feeling it run through his hair and scarf. He held the red cloth, a remnant of Ruby's beloved hooded cloak.

"Come back alive." It was whispered softly, yet it held the weight that so few words could ever have. "Ruby would be devastated if you kicked the bucket." Jaune turned, and for the first time blue met red. Qrow no longer held her hand, to instead push against the wheels of his chair until he was only a single pace away from the blond. He looked up at Jaune, once one of Beacon's weakest students, now one of Remnant's greatest huntsman. He looked down at Qrow, once Ozpin's most valuable agent, now a broken man restricted to a wheelchair. Yet he found it impossible not to look up to his former mentor. Qrow Branwen earned his respect when he sacrificed his body to protect _him_.

 _"Why would you do that?" Jaune looked down at the man who saved him from collapsing rubble._

 _"Because losing you would break her heart." Qrow looked up, and smiled at his student, revealing blood stained teeth. It was as if the sharp concrete crushing and piercing his body were just a figment of Jaune's imagination. But when he blinked and saw that he wasn't looking at the ceiling of his room, he screamed.  
_

It was one of those memories that haunted him, yet now it somehow brought a smile that didn't feel forced, and it was aimed at the two greatest scythe wielders on Remnant.

"Goodbye," he vanished, all around the space he once occupied, white feathers tipped black seemed to flutter and float in the air, one landing on Qrow's unresponsive lap. A lone feather glided past him, dancing in the air before finding its place on Ruby's chest.

In the distance, Qrow heard the magnificent shout of an eagle.

/-/

It was dark out when she stood outside in the cold, but thankfully the artificial lights of the city illuminated her surroundings.

The snow fell gently, blanketing the world around her in a layer of frost. It had been snowing for hours now, becoming a deterrent to the citizens of Vale from staying out, lest they risk their ankles getting buried in powdered ice.

The former Schnee heiress deemed it unimportant like everything else around her was when it came time to visit her sister.

Weiss deserved her undivided attention; Winter had failed to do that for her when they were younger. The least she could do was confront the cold for her little sister. Besides, winters in Atlas were much worse. She sighed, her breath took shape into a sheen of mist that was whisked away by the stiff breeze.

Worse on paper, yet Winter found it colder here than her home kingdom's harshest days of frost. Perhaps she should have worn a coat, after all. Her specialist garb did not protect her shoulders from the falling snow, allowing the tiny flecks of white to coalesce on her exposed skin. But she had been through the same in Atlas, never bothering to wear a coat save for the days when the temperature would be at its worst.

It's because _he_ wasn't here with her; Winter's treacherous mind piped up. It only made her feel even colder.

Kneeling before her sister, she brushed her fingers against the smooth surface of the gray tablet, feeling the grooves from letters that spelled out a word a name.

"I'm sorry that I left you," Winter whispered, uttering the same words she always said as she stared at the marker. "I wish I could have been a part of your life when you needed me. Wish that you and I could have been proper sisters like your two teammates." She bowed her head, finding it difficult to look at the headstone. She would not cry though, for her tears had dried long ago. "I hope you didn't hate me."

She stood, eyes looking down at the headstone once again. "I hope you loved me, Weiss."

Winter heard wings flapping, and then a pair of little feet land on the branch of a tree. She looked up to the source, seeing a lone eagle with feathers as white as the snow around them, its tips pitch-black. The bird's dark blue eyes looked at her, and only her. Winter smiled as she always did when those eyes met hers.

Wings fluttered again, and it landed, on two feet — feet that were protected by leather shoes which led up to a human body, clad in a black jacket with a tattered scarf wrapped around his neck. The man's face was smooth and clean-shaven, letting her appreciate his features that she grew to love.

"I miss her too," his voice was soft, a deep tenor that never failed to lull her to sleep on late nights.

She said nothing in response. The wound from hearing the recording of a dead girl just outside the room they shared was still fresh. Not only was her time with Jaune shared with a woman in deep slumber, but with a dead one too.

"Hmm," she would no longer let her gaze stray from the gray tablet. It was the only thing Winter had — other than memories — of her little sister. Father had also made arrangements for a funeral, with much more money spent on his part, but not out of love, but for public opinion. Jacques wanted to look the part of a mourning parent. There was even a banquet in honor of Weiss, a celebration of his daughter's life. But it was like any other party he hosted. Just another social event to make allies, and strengthen current partnerships.

Father might as well have spat on Weiss's grave.

She almost jumped as warm, calloused hands caressed her shoulders, removing the snow that had piled on. The coldness her skin felt was forgotten and now hungered more for the warmth his touch gave. But they left as soon as they blessed her, replaced by his jacket that was too large for her. The comfort it provided was nothing compared to his touch.

"You've been here all day," he whispered from behind, his hot breath washed over her left ear. "Were you waiting for me?"

He maneuvered to her left now, allowing her to look at him to the side without her hair getting in the way. The sleeves of his white shirt protected his arms, but it left little to the imagination of what was under the thin material. His rough hands took shelter in the pockets of his pants. Like every other time she found herself in the company of this man, her eyes were drawn to the ragged red scarf around his neck, then to the handkerchief in his breast pocket. They both stood out like her ivory hair would in a crowd. He stepped closer so that their shoulders would touch. She neither flinched nor moved away, and completely ignored the tattered pieces of cloth.

"Thank you, Jaune" she whispered.

The blond said nothing. He stood in place as if he forgot Winter was right beside him. She knew better than to believe such a foolish notion, though. He was far too gentlemanly to do that.

She too remained silent, in favor of basking in the comfortable presence she found herself in; the frigid air now only a memory, as was the loneliness she felt. Her grasp on his jacket tightened, and she allowed her eyes to drift shut. The urge to lean against him was strong, but she stomped out those desires.

"I wish we could have gone together,"

Her eyes widened when she realized that it was not her voice who spoke those words. Winter swallowed when an arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. Despite her wishes, she did not look up to see his face partly because his chin rested atop her head, and mostly because she found it hard to look at him.

He almost never held her like this outside of the bedroom. It was a question she would have pondered the answer to, but right this second she couldn't care less.

Why was it that when he was around, all of her pain just faded away, and a new ache took its place in her chest? How was it that feeling his warmth was an entirely new experience every time, one that eased the cold better than any coat ever could? Even the jacket he let her wear could not compare to the feel of his skin against hers.

"Are you ready to leave?" He asked, while releasing her and for the second time, his eyes went to her. As always the world around her seemed to stop when she met his gaze. It was as if she discovered something that no one else had ever experienced before, and she selfishly wanted to hide it for herself.

Hadn't she deserved to be selfish, after everything she had lost? Wasn't it time she finally asked to stay with him?

"Yes," she replied. "My ship is ready to depart." Her hand took his, their fingers intertwined. Jaune watched her, then looked down at their connected hands when she gripped him tighter. Winter let go, leaving the key he always gave her in his grasp.

Maybe Winter did deserve to be selfish. Without Jaune, she had no one to care about in any intimate capacity. Years of fighting and losing made the very act of living near impossible.

Until she fell in love, that was. But it was because she loved him so much that Winter could not act on her selfish desires.

Jaune cared for another woman. And there was nothing she could do to change that. She couldn't force Jaune to love her no matter how desperately she wanted him to. It was his choice whether to love her or not.

They walked together, snow crunching under their feet.

"By the way," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Where are your gloves?" She asked, eyeing his hands that were buried in his pockets.

He looked away; his cheeks flushed with color. "I forgot them."

What a boob.

* * *

 **And so my rebellion continues.**

 **Hey friends, it's been quite some time since I've last written on this site. It was nice to write for you all again. If you are new around here, it also makes me happy to know that you've stuck around to the end. Back to my old readers. You may be wondering why I returned, and the answer is quite simple. I missed writing, missed the brief moments where I would smile whenever I read a review. It was a small bit of happiness, but it was one that I cherished.  
**

 **But there's more, I was so focused on the university, and the idea that I needed a degree to be happy. I turned my back on what I enjoyed doing, for a piece of parchment that (while important to many people for the path they want to walk) opens up the door to a job that may or may not pay for a comfortable life. But to be honest, I don't want that. I just want to write for hours upon hours for whoever may read my content.**

 **So I quit school, and I'm happier than I've ever been.**

 **I have a job that pays my bills, and still gives me time to write for you all. However, I eventually want to be able to make writing my full-time job. So, I plan to open up a p4treon(that thing where you support people. Apparently you can't type the P word on this site)**

 **Now hear me out! I won't be doing it now because my track record on updates was horrid. You can support me if you wish to after I prove that I can provide a reliable schedule for all of you. To prove that I can provide content that will be enjoyable, and come out in a timely manner I will be writing this short story. I promise to release a chapter of this story once a month, and it will be at a word count of about 6000-8000 words. I want this to be a demo of sorts, a small taste of what I can provide.**

 **As for how long this story will be, I can guarantee that it won't run for longer than ten chapters.  
**

 **As for my old stories, I may or may not go back to them.** **¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**


	2. Chapter 2

"Thank you for choosing Vale Air, where there is only one method of travel. The safe one!" The woman's voice over the intercom spoke in a blithesome tone, so cheery and sweet that Jaune wondered if her teeth were rotting. "Please enter Vale Air's facility in an orderly fashion. A trampled person is a negative person!" Though considering how overly happy the voice was, it probably belonged to an A.I. so cavities were something it would never get.

For once, Jaune hated the bustling activity of Vale. It usually helped calm him to know that there was life all around him. He wouldn't go so far as to say he felt safe in the crowd, as anyone could be a potential threat. But at least he didn't feel completely alone.

Now he couldn't help, but glare as yet _another_ person bumped shoulders with him to walk inside the entrance to the airport. Even though it was late at night and so damn cold his fingers felt like they would fall off, there seemed to be no discernible end to the mass of bodies that entered and vacated. All he wanted right now was to be alone with Winter, but it seemed the masses wouldn't give him that.

If Jaune were a betting man, he'd gamble away his entire bank account that at least half of the people here were flying to Vacuo, where there wasn't a word for the concept of "cold."

"Will you be okay going back to Atlas?" He idly wondered why Winter didn't want to go to the kingdom where she could enjoy the warmth of the sun and wear a bikini. And wasn't that image a pleasant thought?

"I'll be well, Jaune. What concerns me is your performance without my guidance. You always seem to make critical errors whenever I'm not looking."

"I resent that." He smiled despite the sharp response. "You don't have to go back, you know. You can stay at the apartment while I'm gone."

"It's not as if there is much for me to do in Vale," she replied easily. "And since you won't tell me how long you'll be on this mission for, I'd rather not waste my military leave on the _possibility_ that you'll be back."

Jaune rolled his eyes but didn't argue any further. Winter was right, of course. He wouldn't be back before her month-long furlough. His mission in Mistral could take a year at a minimum. Not only did he have to find the enemy without a single lead, but he also had to evaluate whether Haven's headmistress could be trusted. That meant watching over Winter would be impossible. _Not that she needs my protection._ He felt the need to remind himself.

Winter, who still wore his jacket over her shoulders was the most dangerous woman on Remnant. And that was not a biased opinion. It was the truth.

The winds of Vale brushed against him, biting at his exposed skin like ants made of ice. The beautiful woman in front of him shifted, wrapping the jacket around her more tightly so as not to suffer a similar cold fate. And while there was not an ample view of her body, it didn't matter to him. His attention was on her flushed face, down to pink lips that intoxicated him with every kiss. She looked at him with her light blue eyes, a faint smile in place as she watched him watch her.

"See something that interests you?"

"Not at all," he lied.

"So you always say when we're not in bed." She walked toward him, hands still gripping the black jacket. Their eyes were on each other again, and like every other time, he marveled at how pretty she was. But sometimes when he looked at her eyes, they became a familiar green, like shining emeralds that were too precious to touch. Other times they became a bright silver that always seemed to inspire hope within him.

But like every dream, they would vanish, and reality would rear its ugly head.

Blue eyes drifted shut as shame filled him. How could he have thought such a thing? He had no right to look at the woman in front of him after such a thought. He may have loved Pyrrha, and he _still_ loved Ruby to this day, but Winter was the one by his side and who gave him comfort. She was the warm body that helped him forget about how shitty his life had become.

While he was sure that Winter saw him in the same light, a form of stress relief to bury away her pain, Jaune refused to believe that she would ever be disappointed at the sight of him. They were partners, friends. And he would not change it for the world. His eyes opened once more.

They widened when her lips found his. Gloved hands held his cheeks, drawing him closer.

It still amazed him that no matter how many times she kissed him, it was always a marvel at how smooth her lips were. Her name was a disservice to how warm she was. From one kiss the world around him no longer felt cold. He wanted to keep his eyes open like every other time they kissed, but it didn't seem possible. They closed of their own accord.

An image of Ruby popped into his mind.

Winter gasped as he tore his lips from hers, and the hands over his cheeks were pushed aside as well. She looked at him, doleful eyes and glistening lips. He held her wrists again, trying his damnedest to make sure his rough hands were gentle in his hold.

"Did I hurt you?"

"I am not injured," she said softly.

Not in the physical sense perhaps. And it seemed the people around them knew that as well. Their eyes were on him as they walked by, most just spectating but he could feel the _glares_ from others. They were well deserved.

With injuries to the body, aura, and by extension his semblance could heal it. But wounds to the heart were beyond him.

He couldn't love Winter. And she _couldn't_ feel that way for him it was impossible. His body was hers, as hers belonged to him. But there was only one woman who had his heart. And she was still in her long slumber.

 _"This can't be any more than what it is,"_ he remembered saying to her after their first night together. And she agreed. What they had was purely physical, emotions were never supposed to get involved. Winter knew that, so it must have been a lapse of judgment on her part. Perhaps the cold was getting to her worse than he thought. It had to be that.

Winter couldn't love someone as undeserving as him.

Jaune let go of the Specialist and rubbed the back of his head while he laughed nervously to feign embarrassment. "Sorry, it's just..."

"You don't have to say it," Her words came like the tolling of a bell, and the scene before him seemed to flicker. Winter looked helpless as she stood before him while hugging herself against the wind. His heart skipped a beat when he stared at her flushed face.

 _Her flushed face didn't make his heart skip a beat; it instead composed a rapidly paced symphony. She looked helpless as she stood before him while hugging herself, accentuating her tempting cleavage that her black dress scarcely covered. Blue eyes roved over those valleys, for a second longer than he perhaps should have, before drifting up the dangerously alluring skin, up to an elegant and smooth neck. Then straight into hungry light blue eyes, that was solely on him.  
_

 _"You don't have to say it," her words came like the tolling of a bell, one that rang sorrowful notes._

 _She sauntered forward, somehow making it look more elegant than what should be possible for an intoxicated woman. He retreated as she approached, the distance between them never closing until his back hit a wall._

 _Jaune could have moved to the side. It would have been easy to outmaneuver the inebriated woman. Regardless if she was a Specialist or not._

 _But he no longer moved away as she approached. It was as if the wall behind him was a good enough excuse for the hormones he thought discarded to give in to the temptation of her alluring body. So when she held his cheeks, he did not resist. And while he did not meet her pink lips halfway, he did not move away._

 _He wondered what the taste of those lips would be. Would they be as hot as her body that was flushed against him? Jaune wanted nay **needed** to know. Just one taste and he would be satisfied. _

_"You don't have to love me," Winter whispered. The_ _ _burning scent of alcohol wafted into his nostrils._ Those light blue eyes of hers that seemed to yearn for pleasure from him of all people became lidded. "Just be mine for tonight."  
_

 _He sighed, his breath mingling with hers. His eyes closed._

 _How could he say no to this?_

They were outside again. The dress that let her body flare his hormones to life now gone, replaced by her uniform that was engulfed by his black jacket. The dark fabric made him see that dress again for a second before his eyes corrected the image.

"There are people around." He quickly explained. "It's embarrassing, is all."

It relieved him to see those pretty eyes of hers look up at him once again. Even more so to find that she seemed to have a look of understanding. When she smiled, he almost fell apart.

"Forgive me. I guess it is improper to display affection in public."

It was perfectly fine, Jaune wanted to say. He didn't only because he was still reeling from the warmth of her kiss. Her heat lingered still, and he almost touched his lips. "You should leave. Who knows how much longer they'll keep your ship docked before they start yelling for you."

The smile she gave was soft and beautiful. But it looked like there was very little joy in the act. "Will I see you soon?"

No.

"Yeah," he lied. "I'll be around before you know I'm gone."

It was better this way. To lie that was. When Winter found out, then she could finally move on to someone much more deserving of her time. She'll find someone who would appreciate her, who could love her with every fiber of their being. She'll find a man who wouldn't think of another woman when looking into those gorgeous eyes of hers. His nails bit into the skin of his palms.

It would be for the best.

She removed the jacket from her shoulders and put it forward in an offering. Jaune's hands were on hers, as he nudged the coat to her chest. "Keep it," he said softly. "To remember me by." She did nothing as he placed the jacket on her shoulders, like how he did earlier tonight at the cemetery. Without even realizing, his chin came to rest on her shoulder.

"I thought you didn't want displays of affection in front of people." A sigh sounded in his ear, disappointed. "Or is it only when I do it?"

Jaune said nothing. Even though there were a million things he wanted to say to dissuade her from thinking that, he couldn't because there wasn't anything that could be said to justify his hypocrisy. Instead, he let her go, and she faced him once again. Those soft sil-... blue eyes looked to him for answers.

He had none.

"See ya later,"

She sighed, her breath crystallized before them, becoming a cloud of mist that was whisked away.

"Until we meet again, Jaune."

She walked away and didn't turn back once when she entered the airport. That was good. It made it easier to stop himself from going after her. Seeing her face again would have made letting her leave far too difficult for him.

The image of Winter in the arms of another man struck him. The thought felt like a chasm opening up deep within him.

Jaune took a step forward. The muscles of his left leg tensed, ready to follow his right. He took one step back in place.

They were partners, friends. But they could never be lovers. Jaune had to let her go. It was for the best... it was the right call, he knew that. He kept telling himself that. He wouldn't change what he had with Winter for the world.

So why didn't it feel right to let her go?

/-/

General Ironwood sighed for what must have felt like the hundredth time today. With a practiced flourish, he wrote his signature down and moved on to another document. Paperwork was a harrowing constant, one that only became worse as he gained rank throughout his career. Being higher in the military hierarchy meant more of people's problems became _his_ problems.

There was never a day without a problem.

And how could he be so foolish as to forget the paperwork that came with being a headmaster and a council member? Impossible to do that when two other stacks of papers were waiting to be marked by his sloppy handwriting.

 _The price one pays to hold seats of power;_ Ironwood frowned when he picked up his mug, realizing that it was far too light to have any coffee inside the porcelain. The general _glared_ at the work before him again.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in." He said dryly.

To Ironwood's surprise, it was his most trusted Specialist who stepped into the office as requested, closing the door behind her. She had a tray in hand, atop which lay a mug and thermos.

"Winter," Ironwood said, setting a page down to focus on something that wasn't paperwork. As always she wore her uniform cleanly without any noticeable wrinkles. He eyed the dark blue brooch which replaced the red one only a year ago. It was a gift from someone she did not name, but it wasn't difficult to guess who it was.

Here he was ignoring his job to inspect jewelry. _I can't get distracted now;_ he examined the pile that contained dozens upon dozens of request forms. They ranged from an inquiry of additional supplies from captains and majors for their platoons, a budget increase of R&D by Doctor Polendina, troop allocation to assist with the construction of Thermopylae, the new city expansion. The last one brought a frown upon his features.

Thermopylae was a mountain that was recently discovered to have natural hot springs above a large dust depot that would hopefully attract tourists to increase the kingdom's revenue, and to amass even more dust. It was a joint effort between the Atlas military and the SDC to make the first giant leap of expanding the borders of Atlas. Twenty thousand souls were to colonize the area, with thirty percent of the population consisting of Atlas military and SDC personnel. The rest were civilians who would aid in the city's construction.

Ironwood gave it his approval, despite the dread he felt at the possibility of Atlas facing an event like Mountain Glenn, and the fact that he was against the council's decision of such a massive expansion in the first place. While he may hold two seats, his vote had still been in the minority.

There was more to the council's decision than creating a vacation spot in Atlas, and to acquire more dust (though having both would be a huge boon). There was a legitimate reason for their choice of that Ironwood couldn't dismiss. With the ever-increasing population rate, it was only a matter of time before there were too many mouths to feed, and not enough space to accommodate those said mouths. Ironwood couldn't fault the reason, but what the council proposed was a death sentence to the people who would colonize this new territory.

Whether the expansion ended in success or failure, didn't matter. The outcome would be the same; there would be fewer people in the city.

While sending troops could give the civilians a better chance of survival if the Grimm were to attack, it would also mean the deaths of his soldiers. There were only bad options available to the general. And no matter what choice he made it would still hurt.

"Perhaps you need a distraction, sir. You look stressed." The pouring of steaming coffee accompanied Winter's voice.

Yes. Maybe Ironwood did need a distraction. And any distraction was a good one right now. "I was under the impression that you went on leave. What brings you back after only _two_ days?"

The ex-heiress shrugged, the motion seeming elegant with how she raised one shoulder and let it fall. "I already did everything I wanted in Vale," left unspoken was what she _did_. Or in this case, _who_ she did like some of his students at the academy would say. Ironwood sighed for what must have felt like the hundredth and one time.

Damn Ozpin and his excessive need to know everything about the people around him; what Jaune Arc and Winter did in their spare time was not information that should be found out and then _shared_. For someone who lived thousands of years, his old friend had to be the most socially insensitive man that Ironwood knew.

"Regardless, you should be enjoying more of your vacation. And thank you," he said, accepting the mug of freshly poured coffee. He stared into the black liquid, noting it to be a brew of Atlas Black, no sugar or milk. The general let out a pleasant sigh as he took a drink. "While I appreciate this, I find it a waste of Atlas resources to take you away from leave to give me my caffeine fix."

"The way I see it, sir. If my being here can alleviate just a small amount of your stress then that is an acceptable reason to cut my leave short. Besides, I rather enjoy my job." The corners of her mouth turned up by a fraction. "But if there is an assignment that needs the expert touch of a Specialist, I am more than ready to complete it."

"Not the point, Winter." Ironwood rubbed his temple while nursing his coffee with his robotic hand. He soon adopted a smile though, pleased to note the built-up stress from the day was beginning to melt away. "While I am thankful for your commitment, there aren't any assignments to take. And while I would trust you to complete a mission by yourself, I doubt Ozpin would be happy if you went on your own."

Ironwood mentally cursed when he saw the small frown that came from Winter. It was not aimed at him but toward the mentioned name. He smiled at the thought of a different name, though.

"And I'm certain Jaune would be worried if he learned that you went on a mission without him."

She seemed startled at the mention of Arc. Shock turned to an embarrassed expression in a second.

"I don't know about that," she looked to the side, perhaps in some vain attempt to let her bangs hide how her face darkened. Ironwood made it a point not to mention that he noticed. Instead, he took another sip of his coffee, both to enjoy the bitter taste and to hide his smile.

"Any updates on our enemy's location, sir?" Winter asked. Her face was back to its pale complexion.

It was an attempt to change the topic and a sore one at that. The fight against Salem was something Winter focused far too much on ever since she learned the truth. And Ironwood realized the irony that it came from him of all people.

He had sacrificed more than his body in this conflict. They all had. Ironwood considered it a lesson as much as a tragedy. It helped him learn to enjoy the smaller things in life, and that he couldn't dedicate his entire life to fighting. Like a camera flash, there was a memory of Glynda, much younger and happier smiling.

Smiling at him...

"I know you want to find Salem," he said, ignoring the past for that way led to regrets. "But I haven't been able to locate a hint of her whereabouts. For all we know, Ozpin's paranoia is just working in overdrive, and she may very well be dead. Miss Rose did use her eyes against Salem in our last battle."

Winter's reaction was complicated at the mention of Miss Rose. Her eyes flashed, her lips tugged down, but it all lasted for barely a second, gone and replaced with an easy smile not moments later.

Gone, but not missed. Jaune Arc was an impressive man to be able to have a woman like Winter be jealous of a comatose girl.

"You may be right, sir. But until we can confirm she is truly dead, I believe it is imperative that we do not let our guards down." Ironwood couldn't fault her logic there. Unlike the statue that the Grimm dragon became at the battle of Beacon, they never found Salem's body after that blinding display of silver light.

"I agree," he downed the rest of his coffee, setting the mug down with a content sigh as his eyes drifted shut. He heard pouring, the scent of a still much-needed caffeine boost filling his senses once again. He opened his eyes and accepted the newly poured coffee with a strained smile. "The Grimm are still active, albeit at numbers lower in recorded history." It was admittedly a rather small margin, roughly a three percent decrease in Grimm activity. But any reduction in Grimm presence was a victory in the eyes of the people. But to those who knew the truth?

"Whether it's because Salem is gone," he continued. " Or because she is gathering her Grimm it doesn't change the fact that we've made little progress on finding the truth. There isn't much for you to do, Winter. So why not enjoy the rest of your leave?"

If he was anyone else in Winter's presence, Ironwood was sure that he would be the target of her infamous glare. She nodded instead and gave a crisp salute.

"Permission to leave, sir?"

"Granted," he went back to his paperwork and already dreaded the fact that he sent away his distraction from work. It also nagged him that Winter cut her military leave so short. But what could he do to change her mind? Ironwood glanced up, seeing his young friend about to open the door to leave. "I was told that Mr. Arc went on an assignment."

Winter stopped in place. She didn't respond, probably to listen intently on what his next words would be if they were about Arc. Only her late younger sister could have garnered such a reaction from Ironwood's best Specialist. He supposed it was further proof that Winter finally had her eyes on someone.

"I'm surprised you didn't decide to use up your vacation time to be with him. I doubt accompanying Arc on one of his assignments would have stopped you."

She spun at that, her cheeks flushed with color as she stammered out protests. From how Arc was just a 'boob' and a 'good for nothing flirt' to 'why would I want to take the time to be with him?!'.

Ironwood supposed there was some benefit to knowing their little secret if he could get such a reaction from her. He chuckled, which somehow got Winter to settle down before she popped a blood vessel. "While I'm sure spending time with Arc is less than ideal,"

"Agreed! Why would anyone want to spend time with Ja- Arc?! His only redeeming quality is that he didn't take after Qrow's habit of excessive drinking."

"Agreed," he teased, repeating what she said before. Admittedly, Ironwood took great satisfaction in his subordinate's barrage of insults for the man she _detested_. Was this what being a teasing father was like when he knew their daughter had an obvious crush on a boy?

"I mean, how ill-mannered can one individual be?" She continued with a huff, an action that was rare to see from the proud woman. "He would sooner try flirting with a random woman than focus on the mission."

"A real degenerate,"

"And he has no appreciation for how patient I am with him." She glowered, glaring ice daggers at his paperwork. He wished it was in the literal sense.

"Thankfully he'll be in Haven for quite some time which means you won't have to go on missions with him for a long time."

 _That_ got a different reaction. Instead of more scathing words for Arc, or false satisfaction that she wouldn't have to be near him any longer, she was silent. It was as if the words he spoke were the same he gave to the families of the soldiers who died in service.

"Did Ozpin say how long he would be gone?" She asked after a few more seconds of silence.

"He didn't say," Ironwood began. "But considering his new position as a member of Haven's teaching staff, I assume his stay there may encompass a couple of years."

"I see." Winter's brows drew down.

"You have to understand," he started, offering the young woman he saw as his own child a reassuring smile. "Ever since Leo's betrayal came to light, Ozpin has been desperately trying to find someone he can fully trust to handle operations in Mistral. For now, that means Arc. But rest assured!" He added with raised volume, just a dynamic higher to stop Winter from interrupting. "From what Oz has said, Headmistress Theodora seems like a prime candidate to be that new agent for us. But first Jaune must determine if she is someone we can trust."

"He won't be there forever." He finished, still smiling.

Winter was one who always hid her feelings well. Always the strict disciplinarian, like a younger Glynda if he had to make a comparison. Complaints from the younger soldiers were proof that it was an accurate comparison.

But those walls seemed like they could crumble at any moment. Winter's usual stoic expression was on the verge of twisting to one of anger. Perhaps it was because Jaune wasn't the one to tell her? _It seems you still act like a scared teenager when it comes to matters of the heart, Mr. Arc._

Ironwood cleared his throat and gave a reassuring smile when Winter looked to him again. "For whatever reason, this reminds me of the fact that you only used two days of your military leave. You still have twenty-eight days, but what could you possibly do with all that time? Sure, Vacuo has nice resorts, but I'd only stay for a week at most. Mistral on the other hand..."

Ironwood took pleasure in the way Winter's eyes widened as her mouth fell open. The boiling anger on display a few moments ago began to simmer.

"If you ask me, I think Mistral is a wonderful place to go for vacation. Plenty of things to do there to fill the time. Museums, plays, musicals. And someone of your station wouldn't even be fazed by the underbelly of the kingdom." If it wasn't obvious now, then his offer was as subtle as a Goliath in an open field. "What do you think? Does going to Mistral sound like something you would like to do?"

It was clear that she wanted to say 'yes' to his proposition. Despite how tall she was, Winter seemed more like a little girl trying to decide which doll she wanted from the toy store. Though in this scenario the pink pony was a trip to Mistral and the gray pony was to stay in Atlas and continue the status quo. Ironwood hoped that the pink pony looked more appealing to take.

It was a sad day when General James Ironwood started using stuffed ponies as metaphors.

"And if you enjoy your time there so much that leaving seems impossible," his smile became one of melancholy. "Then perhaps you will consider resigning."

"Sir?!"

"I'm not making this suggestion because of a lack in performance." He reassured. "I do this because you have served your kingdom loyally for years now, Winter. And while your service has not reached the length of many senior officers, it cannot be denied that you have sacrificed just as much, if nor more than them." He sighed, feeling the stress build up again. In truth, he would rather keep her as a Specialist to have someone in Atlas he could trust implicitly. But what he wanted did not matter.

"You and I will still keep in touch of course. We'll be fighting Salem till the very end whether or not you remain a Specialist. But why not become a huntress, and gain at least a tiny amount of freedom?" There was so much weight on her shoulders, more than any single individual should have to bear. If he could lighten the load just a little, then he would be happy. _Just like you do for me all the time,_ he thought with a tiny smile.

"I'm afraid I must decline both your recommendations."

What?

It seemed it wasn't just Ironwood who was surprised. Winter looked stunned at what she said but took on a stoic face a moment later. Her lips formed a thin line. But Ironwood could easily see her trembling lips.

"While I appreciate the offer and your kind words. The truth is, Atlas is my home, and this military is my family."

"What about Arc?"

"What about him?" Ironwood rolled his eyes at the half-baked counter.

"It's not a well-kept secret of what you and he have."

To Winter's credit, she was composed when he called her out. She smiled even. Perhaps glad that he knew, that it was proof that who she cared about was something that wasn't judged. But what happiness he could glean from her was accompanied by an abyss of despair that anyone could see.

Love was one of the few things that never got any easier. Ironwood knew that well despite what others may think, and how his body was as much machine as flesh. People felt he lacked a heart, but he would like to believe that they were wrong. He did have a heart — one that loved and grieved like any other. His proof was whenever he thought of Glynda.

Like right now at this very second, he felt his chest ache at the thought of her. Somehow his cold robotic hand could still feel the warmth of holding her. It was both a sad, but satisfying image. It was a reminder that he still had a heart; that he was still human.

"Winter," he sighed. "I was once in the same position you were in." He somehow found it easy to smile as he thought of Glynda. "I was married to the military. I believed any day I was away from work was a missed opportunity to make the world a better place. Even when I found someone who could find it in their heart to care about a worthless man such as me," his hand, the human one clenched the center of his chest.

"I ignored her." His hold tightened. "Ignored what I could have had."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't apologize," he laughed. He wasn't sure why he certainly didn't find anything funny. "The mistake was mine, not yours."

She said nothing in response. What could she even say? Try and apologize again, and offer pity? Winter no doubt knew that it was something he didn't need or want. Ironwood made his bed, and he was going to lay in it.

"Sometimes I imagine her being with me still," he continued and linked his hands on the table. "I imagine little faces looking up at me as I hold her hand. It's silly,"

"It's not!" She protested with pink-tinged cheeks. Winter's outburst was short-lived, as was the color on her face. She linked her hands behind her back and stood at attention. It was an attempt to regain her composure by falling in a familiar stance, something he learned from his many years of knowing her.

Maybe Winter was right in saying that his fantasy wasn't silly. But Ironwood could confidently confirm that it only led to regretting his decisions all the more.

"It's as if I'm looking into a mirror." His gaze never strayed from Winter.

The woman before him remained silent, her eyes now focused on the ground, avoiding his gaze. That was good. It meant that she was seriously thinking about her next choice. Whatever it was she decided, he would support her, not only as a general but as a father.

"My place is here," she said with closed eyes.

Ironwood smiled not out of cheer, but resignation.

"Very well," he replied. "And what of your military leave?"

She shook her head.

"Permission to leave, sir?" She asked for the second time.

"Granted." And this time he didn't say anything to stop Winter from leaving. He couldn't force her to go on military leave, or resign. She was a grown woman who could make her own decisions.

He just hoped Winter wouldn't regret her choice.

/-/

The first thing Winter did when she entered the bedroom of her apartment was to fall head first into her mattress, her cheek digging into the pillow after landing. It was an undignified act that she only let Jaune see her do. He was the only person she showed things to about herself.

It was a tiring day. Not difficult, just long with very little to do. An uneventful day in the Atlas Military was as taxing as a busy day, but for different reasons. A day that consisted of work could be stressful on the mind and body, but it let the advancement of time feel much faster. But a day that lacked tasks made for a long day that seemingly had no end in sight.

The start of her day was perhaps the most frustrating. Like a leech, the events in Ironwood's office drained her of the necessary energy to push through the dull day.

Winter did not regret her decision to stay in the military. It was the career path that let her escape the suffocating life in the Schnee manor. She was able to establish order, and peace in Atlas as a Specialist. And now that she was within Ozpin's inner circle, it was the entirety of Remnant that she was tasked to protect.

But why did she say no to that trip? Surely a month to ease the ever building stress of this silent conflict was acceptable. It would have been the perfect opportunity to see Jaune. Four weeks in Mistral with him was a vacation that she would have loved more than any of the trips she took part in with her _family_. Winter wanted to leave now. The fact that it was close to midnight wouldn't have stopped her.

So what was the harm in going? Winter couldn't say. No. No, she did know why.

Jaune wouldn't want to be with her. At least, not in the way she wanted to be with him.

Winter touched the pillow that laid beside her head. It was _his_ pillow whenever they spent a night here together after a mission in Atlas, or when he came to visit on the rare occasion. _Rare_ _is putting it lightly._

He almost never came to see her of his own volition. Her partner was only around during missions, and a day or two after. He did visit on her last two birthdays, but it was towards the end of the night. She could still remember her heart skipping a beat when Jaune had brought a tiny black velvet box last year.

And how her heart broke when it opened to reveal a blue brooch.

Winter brought the pillow closer to her bosom, clutching it as if it was Jaune in her bed. "I'm such a fool."

She had made sure to smile when Jaune replaced the red jewel she usually wore for the one that matched his eyes. Winter also made sure not to hint at her disappointment when they made love that night. And she also made sure to smile when he left early morning the next day.

Winter was even able to hide the ache she felt when Jaune pushed her away.

Hiding how she honestly felt was one of the many skills her father taught. It was unfitting for a Schnee to let their feelings be known. _"Don't let our enemies know what we're against or what we're for, Winter. Fools who wear their emotions on their sleeves are bound to fail."_ She hated her time at the Schnee manor, but for once she was glad to have those lessons though Winter had severe doubts that father would ever expect her to use that lesson on matters of the heart.

Whether Jaune realized it or not, it pained her that the bedroom was the only place where they could be intimate. They would never kiss in public, nor did he let her embrace him. There were only whispers of affection, and even that was rare and far between.

Winter ignored her despair. What they had wasn't ideal. She would go further to admit that she hated only being friends with... benefits. Her face twisted in irritation at the term. It was good enough for her two years ago, but then her foolish heart had to ruin everything.

Falling in love was never part of the plan.

It seemed Jaune had the same plan though unlike her, it didn't seem like his heart would be swayed. It frustrated her to no end.

But she did nothing to change the status quo. Because as long as she was with Jaune, it didn't matter to her whether there was a ring on her finger. Nor did it matter if the man she took to bed would watch the recording of a dead girl when Winter was in earshot. She didn't even care that his heart belonged to a woman in a deep slumber. She would shoulder it all if it meant being with him.

Because she had fallen in love with him.

"Such a fool indeed..."

/-/

The door of the Bullhead slowly groaned open, revealing the tall structures of Haven Academy to his eyes. It was beautiful though it could never compare to Beacon. Jaune realized the bias in his comparison, but he couldn't care less.

"But this is home now," Jaune mumbled to himself. He didn't think this place could ever replace Beacon, but Haven did not have to. He was on a mission, not on leave like Winter. He idly wondered what she was doing now. Maybe home in bed, letting her body take some much-deserved rest? Perhaps she was at a bar, cutting loose for once. If so, it wouldn't surprise him if all the men there were drooling at the sight of her. And why wouldn't they? Most women would kill to look half as gorgeous as Winter.

Staring was all they better be doing...

"Does the sight of my school upset you that much?" A chipper female voice spoke up. Quite literally too, as he noticed a figure atop the stairs that led to the heart of the campus.

"Of course not," he said. "My apologies, if I offended you."

"Not a problem." Was her smooth response, as she waltzed down, low-heels clicking on concrete. "And there is nothing for me to be offended by."

Jaune stopped in place, surprised that she was walking down to meet him.

That and the fact that he couldn't help but stare at the woman's creamy legs, which soon disappeared into the four high-cut leg slits of her black dress that hugged her body. The dark fabric lacked any pattern or markings, making it easier to follow the contours of her svelte figure. Unlike those smooth legs of hers, she hid her arms in long sleeves. Finally, his eyes met hers, a pair of green eyes that complimented her pretty face that short raven hair framed, which several of its strands hung between her eyes.

"Jaune Arc," he offered as he brought a hand out to shake.

Pastel green eyes looked him up and down, the corners of smooth lips rose.

"I know." She took his hand in hers, letting him feel callouses that spoke of an arduous and successful huntress career. Considering her position it didn't surprise him to see this beauty have such rough hands.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, headmistress Theodora."

She gave a dainty smile that would have made most of the men and women on Remnant blush.

"The pleasure is all mine."

* * *

 **And there is chapter 2! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

 **A few announcements about moving forward. The first thing is about this story. Before I chose to limit this to only 10 chapters at most, but as I was planning ahead, I realized that there was so much I wanted to do with this. So expect this story to be a long one potentially.**

 **The second announcement is about future stories. I already have story ideas in the making. What they are about will be on my profile at a later date. If you want an idea of when that will be it will most likely be before I release chapter three of 'Choice,' so once you read that go to my profile to see what I have planned.**

 ** **The third thing I'd like to say is that I want to clarify my goal of making a p4treon. This will not happen for quite some time as I am still uncertain whether to make one. I am unsure at this exact moment if I am reliable enough to be trusted with writing paid content. When I feel confident enough to ask for your hard earned money to provide well-written stories, then I will create a p4treon. When that day comes though, I want to make it clear that whether or not you decide to donate will not stop me from writing. Content by me will be free for everyone, but to those who wish to endorse me, there will, of course, be benefits. What that will entail is still up in the air, but I'll think of something cool.****

 ** **On to the last piece of news I have for you all.****

 ** **Next Chapter: December 15th****

 ** **...****

 ** **Dear God what have I promised?!****


	3. Chapter 3

"Jacques sure does know how to throw a party," commented one of the chairmen of the SDC if Winter's memory was accurate.

"Indeed. I almost forgot that this was a memorial service for poor Weiss." responded one of the other members of Atlas high society. A young woman in a one-strap blue dress, wearing extravagant jewelry that did not belong in what should have been a time of mourning. And like the other hundred or so pompous fools that enjoyed their champagne and mingling, this woman did not know a single thing about her little sister.

Winter stood to the side of the grand ballroom, away from the majority of the guests as she nursed her detested flute of champagne. She took one sip an hour ago and hadn't take another since. It would have been thrown aside already if not for the fact that General Ironwood insisted that she try to "loosen up" as he would say. Her mentor was currently surrounded by the Atlas elite, who all offered honeyed words of praise for the man. It was not genuine, just a means to win favor with one of the most prominent figures of Atlas society. Few had as much influence as General Ironwood, and no one had more. Trying to become a friend of the general was on the top of the priority list for every one of these snakes. Her little sister was forgotten in favor of a game of politics.

As for her?

"- the Schnee family's disappointment is here too."

"A dog of the military..." another whisper, though not as quiet as he may have thought.

"The stain of the Schnee family,"

It made Winter want to scoff at their poor attempts at bullying. She was in the military for goodness sake, so whispered insults that lacked any sort of bite was nothing compared to the bark of a drill sergeant. And contrary to what people may believe, her family name did nothing to stop the wrath of her instructors. When she made a mistake _—_ and there were plenty made _—_ her punishment was never any less severe. In fact, it was always worse. A five-mile run for Winter would only be a three mile run for another even if they made the same error.

It was never a requirement for her to go through the Specialist's training program. As an Atlas Academy graduate, her position among the Specialists was secured. But the military as a whole did not want her in the beginning, something that the general _—_ who only recently earned his position at the time _—_ explained with frustration. To the higher-ups, she was nothing more than a pretty doll who was gifted her position.

Winter decided to prove otherwise, and go through the strict training regime that every Specialist that did not receive huntsmen training endured. Her treatment during training was more severe than any other, and each day was an arduous task that tested her resolve to be in the military. But when she graduated and became a Specialist the proud looks from her instructors made up for all the hardships. They saw her as one of them. Their harsh training made her a better Specialist, and for that, she would be forever grateful.

Perhaps if these pompous fools wanted to hurt her so, they should openly stand in her presence when they spout such dribble. She took a second sip from her drink, instantly recognizing the hint of a ripe pear. The bubbles felt like crystalline pearls on the palate, exploding with acidulous flavors that stood out against a rich, smooth background of ripe fruit and exotic wood interlaced with the fragrance of white flowers. It was perfect. And Winter hated it.

"You should let your hair down more often, sister. Like the light that comes from the moon, your hair shines brilliantly," An all too familiar voice praised. "And my, how lovely you look in that black gown. Though, I suppose the black sheep in the family _would_ look stunning in black."

One breath in, one out through her nose. Pale blue eyes bore into an identical pair that held ill intent. The fact that this ill intent was aimed at his older sister sickened her. "Whitley," she greeted. "Your resemblance to father is becoming uncanny."

"I am pleased to hear that," Even though it was not meant as a compliment, her estranged brother smiled, pleased with the comparison. "There is no greater praise than to be compared to Father." Like Jacques, Whitley chose to wear a suit of the same white fabric their family was synonymous with. His short ashen locks were combed back for a clean and sophisticated look that their father liked so much.

"What do you want?" Her tone was dismissive. Winter did not feel the need to hide her disdain for she no longer had to act like an obedient doll. Her father no longer held any control over her.

"Not enjoying yourself?" A rhetorical question if she had ever heard one. "If it were I in your heels, I would be grateful that father gave me an invitation. Despite being such an embarrassment to the family, you were allowed to be here. This gala is a small taste of the life you once had, and what you could have kept."

"This is meant for Weiss," she countered. The dancing, smiles, and power grabbing all around her were already maddening enough without Whitley's presence. "And even if Father didn't invite me, General Ironwood is my escort for the evening. He would have gotten me in with or without an invitation."

"Don't frown dear sister. Your beauty will be compromised with wrinkles if you keep that up." Her father's heir chuckled, amused by his own joke. His arrogant smile practically oozed some sick satisfaction he was feeling at becoming a nuisance to her. "How interesting to hear that about Ironwood from you, though. Perhaps the rumors about you and the general have more merit than I anticipated."

Winter sighed, before sipping at her drink. Oh how deeply agonizing it was to not let her emotions run wild and teach her arrogant sibling a much-needed lesson on respect. The rumor he spoke of was as well known as it was disgusting. People accused her of offering services of the carnal variety to General Ironwood to earn rank. It was a revolting rumor that did not hold any merit. She was not _involved_ with the general romantically or physically. In fact, the thought had never dared cross her mind, as her superior was the closest thing to a _real_ father she had.

"If I resemble Father, then you no doubt resemble Mother." Winter quirked her brow, confused for the first time. Realization dawned on her when her brother eyed the glass of champagne. Or rather the now empty flute where only droplets remained.

"I won't ask again. What do you want?" The crystal-like glass sat on a nearby table, forgotten. Winter silently dismissed one of the servers who tried offering her more champagne with a wave. She was _not_ her mother. The young waitress gave a quick bow, leaving the two siblings by their lonesome.

"My apologies," he said, sounding anything but apologetic. With a hand over his nonexistent heart, he gave a mock bow. "I was so overwhelmed by the joy of seeing you again that I forgot the purpose of my coming here." His upper body rose, their eyes on each other once again while his hand still rested on his chest.

"You are to meet some associates of mine." Whitley continued, gesturing with his free hand to a pair of young men around the same age as he, who took that as a cue to approach. Both of these men were taller than Whitley. One was an athletic man with sun-kissed skin, and honey colored eyes who presented himself like a Schnee, wearing a pristine white suit that matched her brother's. The other had identical features but was approaching a stout build, having the beginning of a stomach that stretched his shirt and closed black jacket. Brothers the two of them, though one cared much more about their body than the other.

"Do not try to order me around like one of your servants, Whitley. I have neither the patience nor the time for your games," she said before her brother's acquaintances were in earshot. "I'm leaving."

When a hand that lacked any calluses caught her arm, it took every ounce of restraint to hold her instincts back. She could have broken the wrist of the hand that _dared_ touch her. Winter _glared_ at the arrogant man her brother became, making it obvious that she was less than pleased with the hand that grasped her. For a brief moment, she saw the flash of fear in the boy's eyes. Whitley ground his teeth in anger, before taking a deep breath. To appear the calm and collected young man he believed himself to be, Whitley donned a calm mask that made it seem like he was in control of everything. It was a mask that their father always wore to appear untouchable as if the whole world was beneath him.

"I hope we're not intruding at a bad time."

Winter easily broke free from her brother's weak hold. She withheld the urge to sigh, and instead smiled politely at the two young men. "Not at all. Is there something you need?"

"Oh no. My brother Tanner and I simply wanted to introduce ourselves." The athletic of the two spoke with a charming smile as he let out his exposed palm for her to take, no doubt to lay a kiss on her knuckle. She simply raised a delicate brow at his poor attempt. To the boy's credit, he laughed it off, and let his hand fall to the side.

"I would introduce myself, but you already know who I am."

"That I do Miss Schnee. My name is Hunter Holland, heir to Holland Technology the leading developers of communication technology." He said proudly as if that was his greatest accomplishment.

"Charmed," her tone had shown just how unimpressed she was with Holland's attempts at impressing her. Things such as family name meant little to Winter nowadays.

"If I may," Tanner, the larger of the two brothers spoke. "We hoped to speak with you about an important matter."

"When I asked if you needed anything, your brother said no. And yet in less than a minute, you speak of some important matter."

"Forgive us, my intent was not to lie."

"And yet you did." She said matter of factly. "I was just about to leave, actually. Champagne of even the smallest amounts leaves me breathless, so I'm afraid I cannot help you this evening."

Whitely laughed, which the other two men reluctantly joined after. "I never would have thought that my respected elder sister would be weak to a little alcohol of all things. Surely you jest, Winter."

"I'm afraid my appetite for alcohol of any kind is rather tame in comparison to our mother's." She rolled her eyes at the agape mouths of the other two. No doubt they were shocked at the clear disrespect she had for her mother.

"Surely you can take the time to entertain my friends for a few minutes." Whitley snapped his fingers and was greeted by a server. A gentleman no older than forty offered the serving dish that flutes of white wine sat atop. The waiter must have been in close proximity to her brother to serve him at a moment's notice. It was the only plausible reason why he could have heard the snap of fingers over the piano.

Whitley grabbed two drinks and dismissed the waiter. The Holland brothers did not need to be served for they already had their own beverages. With a smile, her sibling offered the wine. "Fleur d'Ivoire. Mother's favorite,"

"I'd rather not," she said. Narrowed eyes came dangerously close to burning a blue inferno.

"I insist, Sister."

Winter sighed and took the wine. Then proceeded to lay it on the table beside them to leave it untouched. Whitley gave her an unimpressed frown. Though it was so subtle that the Holland brothers couldn't notice, Winter saw the intense glare from her brother, revealing how irritated he must have felt. Good.

"It is only one glass of wine. Harmless," Whitley smiled again, looking at her as if she was a child afraid of getting hurt.

It was much more than just a harmless glass of wine. Wine was a defeated woman who let a crooked man ruin their family name. Wine was the Schnee manor's grand white walls, and the painful silence of its halls. Wine was the lonely winter snows, Father's lessons, the garden where the scent of lilies was replaced with the stench of alcohol that burned her nose, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters in her room that kept her awake on lonely nights. Wine was her mother's tears.

"I am fine without it, little brother." She said coolly, not at all like the storm of emotions that began to tear down her walls. Thoughts of that defeated woman were always difficult. More painful than even the neglect from Father. The strong woman her mother once was drowned herself in wine until there was only an empty husk of a human who only knew despair. _Mother gave up on being a parent long ago. At least I was never under the delusion that Jacques would be a loving father._

"Anyway," came the younger Holland brother's now meek voice. Did he suddenly lack a spine after seeing a Schnee family squabble? If so it would not be a surprising turn of events. "I've heard of your relationship with General Ironwood."

"He is my superior and mentor," she cut in before the large oaf could cross a line that he would regret. "And a good friend. If you are implying that there is something more between us, then allow me to be the first to tell you that there is nothing more or less."

"Forgive me," he offered a quick bow. "I meant no offense."

"What my brother was wondering, Winter. May I call you Winter?"

"You may not,"

A subtle twitch of the man's brow was the only indication of his irritation, "Very well, Miss Schnee. Tanner was simply curious if you might grant us an audience with General Ironwood. My family has a proposition for him that would benefit our already glorious military."

"Is that so?" She said with a smirk, happy to have something else draw her ire. "Need I remind you that we already have our own communication equipment developed by our military's finest researchers? And like every other branch of our research department we are making strides to improve every day. Forgive me for saying this, but I fail to see the need for your services, Mr. Holland."

"I think that is something for the general to decide after I speak with him. And please, my dear. Call me Hunter." He smiled at her, making her stomach feel sick. It was not a pleasant sensation that girls often described as being light as a feather. It was as if a bucket of lead was force fed to her, making her body feel heavy and nauseous. Perhaps other women found his forwardness charming, but Winter didn't feel her heartbeat flutter in the slightest.

"Mr. Holland," she refused to be on a first name basis with the boy. "While your aspirations to help improve our military is appreciated, the general is already busy mingling with the other guests. If you must speak with him, then I am afraid you will have to wait in line." She chuckled, "Though I am unsure if I can really call that a line."

The poor general was surrounded on all fronts without a getaway. His eyes found her, pleading in a silent cry for her help. She would have, but with the Holland brothers and Whitley right next to her, it would have been unwise. Instead, she smiled, hoping that her silent apology would get to the man. Winter couldn't tell if he did from the agonizing sigh he let out. He smiled a second later, no doubt making an excuse for his show of dread.

General Ironwood was certainly much more popular this evening than usual. He always did hate these sorts of events, but it never became this hectic for her superior. It _shouldn't_ have been such an event in the first place. This was meant to be a time of mourning for Weiss, and instead, the game of politics and social climbing took center stage.

Winter wanted to desperately leave.

"Then perhaps they can speak with him another day," Whitley spoke up in aid of the Holland brothers. "Surely you could provide them an audience at any time. After all, you are his most trusted ally dear sister. Would that be acceptable?" He turned to his colleagues. It should have been _her_ that he asked, but as always common decency was something he clearly lacked.

"That would be more than acceptable. In fact, nothing would please me more than to have a private meeting with the general."

"Absolutely not," she crushed their misplaced hope with silent satisfaction that was masked by a look of uninterest. Winter needed to make sure they knew that their conversation was of little consequence to her and that she would not be swayed. "General Ironwood is busy every day ensuring the safety of our kingdom. What time he does have for himself is often used running Atlas Academy. I need not remind you that the position of headmaster is just as important as being a general."

"Then I suppose my gratitude for James finding time to attend my daughter's memorial service should be everlasting."

Her body stilled.

Whitley's smile became even more vicious.

Winter turned, seeing the man who further widened the divide between humans and faunus, who cared more about the short term gains of his company than the long term lives of his employees. This was the man who disowned her for wanting to join the military.

"Father." She greeted, offering him a nod.

Jacques took a savoring sip of his wine, ignoring his daughter's welcome. Contrary to what many others might expect, it was a deep red wine in his glass. "I could not help but overhear the Holland family's request."

Liar. Father must have sent Whitley to introduce her to the Hollands. There was never coincidences when it came to Father and business. "Is that so?"

"It is," he said. His eyes that they shared glared daggers of ice. "I do believe it is about time you did something useful for the family. Granting the Hollands an audience with James would be a sufficient start."

"Just a start?" She returned her father's icy gaze with one that could freeze all of Atlas.

"Indeed. I have a proposition that you would do well not to refuse."

"What use would a disowned Schnee bring?"

"Disowned," Whitley spoke for the first time since their father's arrival. "But still a Schnee that can be of use to the family. Father is giving you an opportunity of a lifetime, dear sister."

Winter repressed the urge to scoff. She was to be a tool for father, then? He and Whitley were more foolish than she could ever imagine if they believed she would accept. Her choice to join the military wasn't exclusive to wanting to protect Atlas.

Father always thought his word to be law. As a Schnee, all were beneath him in his eyes. _But_ _p_ _eople aren't just the machines we create to follow our orders._ _When will you learn that your aspirations aren't the only things that matter?_ Never. If her father hadn't learned after Weiss left to become a huntress, then he will never understand.

Hunter cleared his throat, getting the attention of the Schnee family. He smiled, though it was obvious that his nerves were beginning to fail him. "Your brother is correct, my lady. What we have to offer is something that no other woman on Remnant would be lucky enough to receive." For the second time, he offered his hand for her to take. "Your father brought it to my family's attention that you have yet to wed."

This could not be happening.

"I have been known to be rather picky with my women," he continued. "But when my eyes gazed upon your beauty, I knew that you were the one." He smiled, doing his best to appear what he must have thought was romantic. All Winter could see was a man who wanted the prestige of marrying a Schnee, and a pretty doll that he could show off to his friends.

Winter Schnee was _not_ a prize. She was an Atlas Specialist, the best there was and no one would take that away from her. Not this arrogant playboy, not Whitley, not even Jacques Schnee.

"With all due respect," and how little there was of that. "I must decline. Marriage isn't something that I foresee in my future."

"You _will_ wed him,"

It was as if the air around her froze over. The music of the grand piano grew quiet, the chatters of all the guests died. It was as if they were all watching her now, waiting for her response. But it was all in her head, of course. To her mind, the world and its people simply didn't matter at this moment.

Jacques Schnee looked at his daughter as if she were just another employee to be ordered around. To him, she was no longer one of his children. Perhaps she was never seen as his child, to begin with. After all, time with this man was not spent as a family but spent teaching her proper etiquette befitting of a Schnee. Lessons on maintaining the family's wealth, legacy and greatness were all that mattered to him.

 _Even after you tossed me aside, you still try to control me._

"I was disinherited, my place in the family is no more. My _life_ is no longer for you to do as you please with." Her eyes narrowed further. "And if you somehow forgot, I am an Atlas Specialist. I won't be leaving the military any time soon."

"You are my daughter before you are a soldier," he said coldly.

"And it seems you are a CEO before you are a father."

There was a slight twitch in Jacques' eye, but nothing more. "It is time you did your part to further the Schnee name. I once thought it would be as my heir, but your rebellious nature proved otherwise. If being one of the military's lapdogs interested you more than being my successor, then nothing will ever make you leave. As much as I tried to sway you from such a foolish career, I now find your position to be of use."

Jacques smiled for the first time.

"We have close ties with the Holland family. If their goal is for the Atlas military to contract them, then that too will benefit our family. We own eighteen percent of their shares. I'm sure you remember from your lessons with me that eighteen percent is not an insignificant number?" She said nothing in response, content with glaring at him. Father was unfazed, he even rolled his eyes mockingly before looking at the Holland family's heir. "I am certain that you will be thrilled to not only have a wife who dutifully serves her kingdom but to be a direct link to Ironwood."

"It certainly does add to your beauty, Winter." Her supposed suitor expressed with a smile. The mere thought of being paired with him and any other man her father may choose sickened her. Winter was a soldier of Atlas, not some broodmare.

"It will also put an end to the disgusting rumors about you." Jacques sneered. Eyes traveled to Ironwood who still mingled with the other guests. "It is rather fortunate that James is more popular than I this evening. It allows us to speak properly without his involvement."

Winter gasped as a pit in her stomach opened from a realization that came like a crashing battleship.

 _He sent guests to distract the general._

"Do you understand what you need to do, dear sister?" Whitley spoke condescendingly. "You can finally be of use to the family."

"I can think of no finer husband than my brother."

"Tanner speaks the truth," Hunter preened at the praise. "I would treat you like a goddess if that is what you wish."

"You see? He is better than any man you could have hoped for," Jacques took a savoring drink of his wine. "You will wed him, bed him and have a child with him."

She could feel power swelling in the pit of her stomach as they each said their piece. Her body felt a great heat, like that incredible feeling she experienced in a hot bath after a grueling mission. That wonderful fire simmered to a dreadful chill that could freeze a wild blaze and yet her body did not even shiver. The discord of temperature her body felt would have alarmed anybody else feeling this, but she found normalcy in it. The force of her power if she were to let it go could have eradicated the entire ballroom if she so chose. Just one more push was all it would take for the walls of her self-control to come tumbling down and with it the entire building and its guests.

"Care to dance, Snow Angel?"

The conversation died in that instance, as did her anger that switched from hot to cold so sporadically. One second her father and brother were trying to marry her off to someone, the next they stood in quiet shock. She faintly recognized the young man's voice, but couldn't give it a name or face.

Winter turned. The man that strode forward was tall, an inch or two taller than herself perhaps. His face wasn't anything extraordinary or significant, and yet, she felt somehow magically drawn to those soft features. Dark blue eyes that were much warmer than a Schnee's gaze were solely on her. All of it was framed by unruly blond hair. The man's right palm was offered out to her, idly she noticed the calluses on his hand that spoke of constant work.

Men all around her wore fashionable tuxes that were worth more lien than what one of Father's miners made in six months. Not him. He simply wore a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone to show a hint of skin. The long sleeves were buttoned up to his elbows revealing strong forearms that Hunter Holland could only wish he had. The shirt wasn't tucked in, covering whatever belt he may or may not be wearing, leading down to black slacks and dark dress shoes.

"Arc?" She said, almost a whisper. Last she saw of the young huntsman was four months ago. It was a mere three days after their victory against Salem. She recalled that he had been standing to the side with one of Weiss' old teammates during a meeting between the general and Ozpin.

His smile grew. "I thought we agreed to be on a first name basis, Winter. You said so last night."

Realization dawned on her. A smile came soon after.

"Of course. How could I forget?"

"And who might you be?" Tanner Holland interjected as he looked Arc up and down in appraisal. "You certainly haven't dressed for the occasion, good sir."

"I'm one of Weiss' friends," Jaune Arc let out a low chuckle as he hid both hands in his pockets, letting his body slouch to appear relaxed. But it was easy for Winter to see that he was on guard. Even here where the likelihood of a fight was almost zero he looked prepared. "And I didn't bother dressing up because Weiss would have berated me for being something I'm not."

"Someone who has the decency to dress up for their friend's memorial service?" Whitley countered with a smirk.

"More along the lines of "rich snob."

To say Whitley and the Holland brothers were insulted would be an understatement. All three boys were red in the face, their anger ready to detonate like a great firework. They might have even stepped forward to start an altercation if not for the fact that he was a huntsman.

"Calm down," Jacques merely scoffed, getting everyone's attention. Even the other guests were listening in, interested to see what had Jacques Schnee's attention. Even though they were at the side of the ballroom, they were becoming center stage. "Jaune Arc," he said the name with disdain. "Your clothes aside I do not recall offering you an invitation." Blue eyes that struck fear in the hearts of many in the business world narrowed. "You wouldn't happen to be trespassing, now would you? I would hate for you to cause a scene with my security."

Arc whistled, returning the frowns he was given with a smile. "Wow. I didn't think you would remember my name. As for my being here, you can thank Snow Angel," he looked at her again, his smile ever present. "I'm her date for the evening."

"If memory serves, Ironwood is my sister's escort. She said so herself. And I do not recall your presence here throughout the day."

"Well..." his fingers began running through the back of his locks. The four wealthy men smiled at the lack of an answer from Arc.

"He was mourning Weiss in his own way," the words came easily to her, and with it brought the satisfaction she felt seeing Jacques arrogant smirk turned to a frown once again. "He wanted to be by himself, you see. He asked if it was okay to leave me, and I said it was acceptable. I had General Ironwood to keep me company." She looked to her partner in this nonphysical spar. "Isn't that right?"

"Yes. Yes, it is," his smile was charming. Unlike the ones that she saw before from her family and the Holland brothers.

"I would appreciate it if you could refrain from taking away another one of my daughters." Jacques suddenly said in a tone that was far colder than what Winter had heard prior tonight.

"Oh?" His smile fell by a mere fraction, but it was no less noticeable.

"If not for your childish need to play the hero across Remnant, my daughter would not have died so foolishly."

Whispers and gasps were heard across the ballroom. Winter sighed, squaring her shoulders and preparing to step forth to defend Arc again.

"Weiss made her choice." He came to his own defense this time. He strode forward, blocking Jacques' path from her. "She knew the risks of being a huntress, and still she chose to fight by our side anyway. You should respect her willingness to put the lives of others before her own. She was a hero. My hero."

He faced her, turning his back to Jacques Schnee of all people. His broad frame and tall stature fully blocked her Father's figure, letting her only see him. It was as if her father was no longer there that the weight of his presence died to make way for the man before her.

"Shall we?"

Once again, Arc offered his hand for her to take. It was an invitation to finally escape this constricting conversation. She could just dance the rest of the night away, and forget about all the pain this night brought thus far. And all she had to do was lay her hand on his.

"Our conversation has not yet concluded," Jacques said coldly, stepping to the side to be in view again. But he no longer had that crushing presence from before and for the first time this night it seemed his mask of indifference was beginning to crack revealing just how displeased he was with the interruption from Arc. His glare could have given frostbite to most. Winter was not most people and it seemed the same could be said for her new friend.

"I believe it has Father. My friend and I wish to dance" She looked up at her dance partner for the evening. Once again she found herself smiling at this person who decided to whisk her away. "Jaune..." As the name left her lips, she finally took his hand. This was the first time she would hold his hand. But holding it once was all she needed to know that this was not a man who cared about fortune or status. He was a warrior much like herself. It was comforting.

They walked away, arms now linked together as they ignored Jacques and the other guests. She never looked back. But she did look to her dance partner for this night that she once hated so terribly. But what a wonderful night it now became.

The music was already in the middle of a slow song, but weaving themselves onto the dance floor proved simple enough. She followed behind Jaune as he pushed past dancing guests. He held her hand as he did so, and felt how moist his palms had become since leaving their conversation with Father. Was holding her hand more nervewracking than facing Jacques Schnee? Winter wanted to laugh but refrained to instead continue smiling at his back. This should have felt too familiar for what they were. They were mere acquaintances, and yet she allowed such contact even after they were out of sight from her father. He turned with arms outstretched... and looked uncertain.

She did not have such doubts. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, the other on his upper arm. That contact seemed to ignite him to life, clumsily laying one hand on her hip as he took her other hand in his.

Jaune's feet began to sway, she following as they moved left and right, forward and back. The song was one she recognized all too well, a rendition of a song Weiss sang long ago. It was a slow and steady piece that the pianist played, so soft and yet powerful like her sister's voice. If there was one thing that her father did right, it was hiring this musician to play all the pieces her wonderful sister sang.

Winter closed her eyes, allowing the music to let her forget about all the unnecessary background noise. She ignored the clicking of expensive heels, focusing all her attention on the song until the sound of those blasted heels were silenced. Talks of business deals died to instead be filled with this gentle melody that moved her. So beautiful was this piece that she could picture Weiss singing in front of her. Picture her sister as she ran toward her to ask how she performed. _Of course, I love it,_ she would always say which rewarded her with a smile. It was so easy to remember that wonderful smile. _I miss you so much,_ She felt the tears escape her closed eyes, hating how they rolled down her cheeks to show the world that her strength was gone.

Why was her life so full of sadness? A father who cared more about profits than his own children. A mother who drinks herself into oblivion. A brother transformed into a glory-hungry snake. People who ignore her hard work, and spread disgusting rumors about herself and the general. And worst of all, a sister who was taken away from her. _Why can't all the hurt inside just go away?_

"It's okay," he said, offering her a small attempt at a smile when she met his gaze. When she looked away to stare at his chest, her wet eyes widened at the sight of his damped shirt. She looked back up at him, wanting to apologize. "It's okay," he repeated, this time with a smile that seemed much surer. "If getting my shirt wet helps you then I'm all for it, Winter."

"No," she denied, shaking her head as she tried forcing the tears back with her will alone. Her eyes still felt an awful sting, still felt new tears overlap the stains from old ones. "I'm being a burden on you."

"If dancing with the prettiest girl here is a burden, then yes. You're the biggest burden of them all."

Winter did not blush. The flirtations of men were something she experienced many a time, and Jaune's line was hardly the most clever. Though she couldn't deny that his words provided a pleasant distraction from her prior thoughts. They gave her the strength to lift her cheeks, to show that his words were well appreciated. From her dance partner's smile, she could tell that was good enough for him.

They were silent now. She lost again. In both the music and the comforting warmth his hold provided. Jaune was content to not say anything as well, simply guiding her in their dance. He was rather good. Excellent in fact. "You're quite the dancer," she broke their comfortable silence but was pleased to see that he was more than happy to talk.

He spoke of his sister, Saffron who took classes in dancing. It was a passion of hers apparently, and as an attempt to help her brother impress girls she imparted those same lessons onto him. The two had apparently made time to practice together every Saturday before she left to live on her own. And though Jaune wouldn't admit it, Winter could tell from the way his voice softened as he mentioned his sister's absence that he greatly missed her.

"That sounds wonderful," she replied.

"More like embarrassing," he laughed, earning a few glares from some of the guests around them. She did not bother returning those stares, as Jaune seemed to ignore them entirely, having his attention solely on her. "She made us perform together to show how _great_ of a dancer I was in front of girls. Including the one I had a crush on at the time!" His head sagged dramatically. "Even with six other sisters to worry about, Saffron always seems to embarrass me as much as the others combined."

"You have seven sisters?" She said in awe. "Your childhood must have been rather chaotic."

"More like a constant war for my self-esteem's survival. They would make me dress up as a girl all the time and take pictures," She rose a single brow. "And before you ask, no. You _cannot_ see those."

She giggled.

It was so unlike her.

"Never thought I'd hear a cute laugh from you." Jaune agreed it seemed.

"I _am_ a woman, Arc. Even I can be... cute." She looked into those eyes of his again, spotting some degree of glee in them.

"You do have a point. And it's Jaune."

"Jaune," she complied. "Thank you for coming to my aid. If not for your arrival something terrible would have happened."

"Is blowing up the entire building this terrible something?"

She chose to keep quiet and keep dancing. Jaune wisely chose to do the same. And when the pianist ended the song, another picked up immediately. It was a slow and beautiful beginning, but she knew that it would speed up in due time. Each note played on the piano was a treat to her ears, but with it came a pang of sadness and a painful image. It was of Weiss looking into a mirror all alone — abandoned by her sister to join the military.

Jaune jumped a little when her hold on him tightened, and yet somehow it did not interrupt their flow. To even the trained eye it would have gone completely unnoticed. Their dance resumed, their pace picking up with the speed of the pianist's keystrokes.

"Let's dance until our feet ache too much to even stand," he suggested.

Winter nodded, happy to do just that.

/-/

And ache they did. She sat near a large fountain with her heels discarded to allow her feet some much-needed freedom. The lanterns that illuminated the garden made the water shine like crystals. The night was clear of any clouds, letting her see the stars glimmer like pearls and silver.

How stunning this night turned out. It was close to midnight now, and the last of the guests would no doubt leave soon. Her time with Jaune was coming to end it seemed much to her chagrin.

Speaking of the blond, he was walking to her now, with a glass bottle in one hand, and two tumblers held by the rims with his fingers. When Jaune took his seat next to her, he twisted the black cap off the bottle and poured its contents in a glass.

"Here,"

He passed to her a tumbler of amber liquid. She accepted it, resting its base on her lap while Jaune poured himself a glass. As he drank it whole, Winter inspected the decently sized bottle. Desert Rose was its title, no doubt Vacuo made whiskey of some kind. It was large enough to intoxicate four people at least. They were only two.

"And where did you get this?"

"Let's just say I asked a black cat to bring it for me."

Winter instantly recalled a beautiful young woman with jet black feline ears that sat atop her head. "The daughter of the Belladonnas? Is she here right now?"

"Nah, she said and I quote "If I wanted to get drunk, I would do it in the comfort of our hotel" and then proceeded to scurry off."

She hummed in response.

Silence.

The glass of whiskey felt heavy in her hands.

"Do you not want it?" Jaune asked, eying her untouched drink. She stared at her honey-colored reflection, seeing the uncertainty in her eyes. He must have seen her doubt too as he took hold of her drink. She felt his fingers brush against hers. Her grip held strong.

"I don't want you to feel like you're forced to drink." He spoke softly, trying to reassure her.

The young man looked stunned when the glass of whiskey escaped his hold. She took a generous swig, and almost coughed it back up from how strong it was. Forget four people, that bottle could get several soldiers drunk!

"I'm not some defenseless woman, you know." She said, fighting the urge to grimace from the liquid inferno she just drank. "Did you forget that you are sitting next to a Specialist? I can handle my alcohol." Thoughts of Whitley and the wine he tried sharing surfaced but was quickly crushed to metaphorical dust. She normally detested alcohol of any kind, but she felt an exception could be made to entertain Jaune.

A low chuckle was his response. "I could never forget. Weiss practically sang your praises every chance she got."

 _That_ got her attention.

"What did she say?"

"Where to start..."

It started at her position as a Specialist. Jaune talked about how Weiss always took pride in her older sister's position as the youngest Specialist in the military's history. Talks of strength changed to how elegant she supposedly was, and that no other person could match her decorum. Etiquette was forgotten to talk about her wisdom that Weiss always sought out.

Talks about how Weiss viewed her was soon replaced with stories about the hijinks of teams RWBY and JNPR. Through all the misadventures and detentions he spoke of, a violent food fight was perhaps the highlight of them all. As the words came out from his lips his drinks would enter. She was no better with her drinks, except she resolved herself to remain silent to hear more about her sister. To hear more about him.

That was until he spoke of a failed attempt at serenading his crush.

"You tried to court Weiss?" She covered her smile, hoping she could contain her laughter.

"Ugh," He hiccuped, "I was so bad. I'm surprised your sister didn't kill me at Beacon."

Like Jaune, her face was flushed and she couldn't get rid of the giddy smile on her face. Eventually, she started laughing, leaning into Jaune as she held his arm like it was the only thing keeping her from falling. Though perhaps it was accurate, given her sudden lack of balance. Even while seated she felt her body uncontrollably sway.

She hated being so unfocused, so uncoordinated. But the freedom she felt far outweighed the negatives. Especially if it allowed her to be this close to the man beside her. The fact that she wanted to be this close to Jaune should have worried her. They properly met for the first time tonight. _Last night,_ her fuzzy mind corrected. It was undoubtedly past midnight now.

"So you were the one she mentioned in her letters..."

"What?"

Winter smiled. "She mentioned a "dolt" who constantly tried flirting with her." Her smiled blossomed into laughter as she recalled how her sister's pristine cursive writing turned into furious scribbles. So this boy her sister mentioned turned out to be the man who now sat beside her. How humorous the world could be sometimes.

Instead of a dejected look, he merely chuckled, looking up at the night sky, its stars reflecting off his eyes. Despite how drunk he must have been, he seemed at peace, looking like a man who was remembering a pleasant memory.

"She did like this one guy..."

"Re-really?"

Jaune nodded, deciding not to comment on her hiccup. Good.

"She never wrote about that,"

"I wouldn't think so. It never seemed to click for them after the dance."

"She did talk about liking someone after your group first came here," she recalled one memory of a boy her sister talked about. It was one of many that she cherished, but this one felt special. Remembering her sister's blushing face was unforgettable.

"Really? I always thought she was over him." He seemed stunned by the reveal. "Did she mention if it was a guy named Neptune?"

"I never got such," a hiccup. "Information out of her. She was determined to keep his identity a secret from me for reasons I cannot fathom."

His response was a low hum. While they both did not find the answer they were content to let the question go unsolved. Jaune looked at the night sky again in the midst of their silence. Her eyes were on him.

He was handsome. Perhaps not a desirable bachelor that hundreds of women would fawn over. Winter had seen many men that gave her charming smiles to accompany their attractive features, but not one was of any interest to her. For whatever reason, she couldn't avert her eyes from Jaune no matter how desperately she tried to.

 _You want him,_ her treacherous mind said. She denied it, knowing that it was just the alcohol in her system that tried to make her do things she didn't want. _But you do want him..._

"Are you in a relationship with your partner?" She blurted out.

"Blake?!" He _shrieked_ , "No, not at all! I think her books are good enough for her. Besides..." he looked down at the pavement with a serious expression, his eyes revealing a tinge of the wealth of sadness within him. "I don't think she'll ever get over losing the man she loves."

Winter instantly regretted her prying.

"Forgive me. It seems I am being a burden on you once again."

"N-no," his hands encaptured hers, holding her tightly as if he was afraid she would leave. He gave a wide smile, almost childlike with how exuberant he seemed. "Being with you has been great! I can't think of the last time I've gotten to just sit down with someone and just... talk. Being with you has been a lot of fun."

She was fun to be with? Her? It seemed impossible a notion, and yet he said it with such honesty. Winter could not see an ulterior motive in him, and she scanned for any inkling of suspicion. Try as she might there was nothing for her to find. Just a man who enjoyed her company.

Many things happened in that single instance when staring into those eyes that started to shine like flecks of sapphire. Winter did not know if it was magic of some kind, or just the alcohol playing tricks on her. But what she was sure of, was that those eyes gave her the most breathtaking experience of her life. In that single instance, she felt lighter than ever before. In that instance, she found it impossible to look anywhere else. It was in that instance when she felt her heartbeat flutter.

Her breath was caught in her throat at that realization. But her next words came easily.

"Can you take me home?"

She had never felt happier in her entire life when he said yes.

/-/

It took fifteen minutes for them to stagger back to her home, laughing like immature teenagers who found some tasteless joke funny along the way. They reached her apartment, where it took three tries to push the right floor number on the elevator. Three stops later and they were in front of her door, fitting the key in the slot with more ease than her elevator button excursion.

"Nice place," he offered. She closed the door as he looked around her living quarters. "It's so clean..."

"Hygiene is important."

"Tell that to Blake." He snickered, falling face first on her couch. There was dirt on her white carpet from his shoes that he forgot to remove.

Instead of coldly ordering him to clean his mess, she merely shrugged and staggered to the couch. A treacherous part of her brain told her to sit bodily on his back. Maybe even rest a hand on his behind.

Winter cleared her throat instead, getting her drunk companion's attention. Words did not need to be exchanged for him to sit back up to give her a seat. She stared at him, standing perfectly still, waiting for him to do what she wanted.

"Is there something on my face?"

"I think you are very handsome,"

Jaune blinked. "Uh. Thank you?"

"Your gratitude is appreciated. Shall we proceed?"

He blinked again. "Proceed?"

"To the bedroom of course,"

"What?!"

"Or would you prefer the couch?"

"Wait!"

She swallowed, a light pink coloring her cheeks. "The floor?"

"I didn't come here to sleep with you!"

Winter choked on air, and felt a pain in her chest. She found her next words but saying them made her throat tense. "Did I do something wrong?"

Jaune scratched the back of his head, averting his gaze from her. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm already in a relationship. Do you remember Ruby?"

She ignored the pain in her chest. "My sister's partner? Is she awake?"

"No," he sighed. "Still in a coma. But no matter how long it takes, I'll wait for her to wake up. I promised myself that the moment she wakes up, I would make another promise."

"What kind of promise?"

He smiled. "To give her the rest of my days."

He wanted to marry Ruby Rose.

Jaune sighed. His flushed face retained its natural color, and the staggering mess his body was had straightened, finding balance. "I came here to tell you in private that from now on, you and I are going to be partners."

Partners?

"But what about," she held her temple, feeling a headache coming from her excessive drinking.

"Blake has her own mission. Something that Ozpin felt the need to keep from me, but apparently she'll be gone for a long time." His words came out softly, soothing her jumbled mind. "Ozpin and Ironwood decided to have me by your side, to make sure that you stay safe when you go on missions."

"I'm not a maiden in need of defending."

"But a maiden I will watch over nonetheless," he chuckled, brushing off her glare as if he'd experienced a Schnee's icy gaze time and time again. Thoughts of his stories about Weiss reminded her that it was something he did experience many a time. "I know you can kick my ass nine times out of ten."

"Then why do I need you?"

"All my friends were stronger than me too, and most of them are dead. Your sister included." Winter flinched, holding her arms as she experienced a horrible cold shiver for the first time since Weiss died. "Do you want to know what they all had in common?"

Winter said nothing and just stared at him.

The man in front of her let out a shaky breath as if the weight of the Amnity colosseum was just lifted off his shoulders. "They all died trying to play the hero."

 _"She was a hero. My hero."_

"They each died fighting alone, against opponents that were dangerous to face together. Always for such a stupid reason too," he spat out, the beginnings of whatever anger he hid starting to spark to life. "It was the same excuse every time. "To protect our friends," they would all say. We were supposed to face everything as a team, but they had to go off and die."

Those eyes that shined so beautifully at the fountain did so again. Fresh tears that spoke of the pain he must have felt for so long started flooding out. It was a similar scene in the ballroom, but their roles were reversed.

"You will be my partner," she approached him, both standing next to the couch.

He didn't get a word in after she spoke. She wouldn't let him.

"But in exchange, I want the services of a man," with her arms that she still held tightly, she pressed up against her breasts. She wanted to smile when Jaune failed to look away. He thought she was beautiful. "It can only be you."

Winter never thought herself to be hard on the eyes. She was undoubtedly attractive, which was proven by what felt like hundreds of men wanting to court her. She once thought it was only for her family name. But after joining the military and seeing that men still tried being with her, it became obvious that her body was something many lusted after.

Jaune was a man too. His reaction to her was normal, and even though his heart belonged to Ruby Rose, his body was not yet taken. Winter had no need for his heart. What she wanted was release.

She would comfort him. And in turn, he would comfort her.

"I can't do that, Winter" those lips she wanted to steal said, forming those words softly. Oh, how she loved the way he said her name. "I love-"

"You don't have to say it," she wouldn't let him finish. What she was going to do was deplorable, something that only a disgusting human being would do. But when looking at him she found her morals to be a nuisance.

She sauntered forward, concentrating on approaching him without staggering. She may be drunk, but being graceful was something that always came easy for her — or so Weiss would always tell her. Every step forward she took, he would take a step back. There was panic in his eyes, which made her reconsider her decision.

But her conviction was renewed when she saw the excitement in his eyes. It was brief and almost impossible to notice. But after seeing so many men try to take her to bed, it was easy to recognize lust in a man's eyes. For the first time, she was relieved to see that.

Her theory was further revealed to be true when his back hit a wall. He could have easily stepped to the side but chose not to. Why? If not to let her capture him? If Jaune did not want her, then why let her hold his cheeks. Why not push her away as she is about to put her mouth on his?

"You don't have to love me," she whispered those words, unapologetic that her breath was on him. She was going to take him to the bedroom, or throw him on the couch. Hell, maybe she would take him on the floor. Where they found physical comfort didn't matter just so long as they did the deed. "Just be mine for tonight."

Without another moment's hesitation, she stepped forward, bringing her lips to his.

* * *

 **Insert whatever excuse explaining why this was late.**

 **Sorry about the wait friends. I won't give you an excuse on why it took me so long to upload. Just know that I will work on my upload schedule to a degree that I feel won't be too long of a wait, but also ensure I release a chapter of high quality. I am certain that there will be those of you who will inform me of grammatical errors, or that the story is not to your liking. Which is fine in my books. If there is something you would like to say just post a review.**

 **A few of my thoughts on this chapter. I originally wanted to have this be chapter 1, but in the end, I decided to scrap it because I wanted to get closer to the main plot. This was back when I was going to make this a 10-12 chapter story so I needed to skip out on things. Now that I've decided to make this a longer story, I cannot help but regret my prior decision to not begin with this chapter. To remedy that regret, I decided to make this flashback sort of chapter. Part of me is happy with a chapter taking place before this story's present, but another part thinks that this might have been a waste. While I think exploring how they got into their physical relationship is interesting, I can also understand that people would rather get to the main plot of this story.**

 **What I will say is that things will be moving forward in the next chapter.**

 **Expect the next chapter to be sooner rather than later. Hopefully by the end of March chapter 4 will be released.**


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